IN  PREPARATION, 
.A.      ZtsTIE-W      ZEsT  O  ^V  IE  ID  , 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THIS  VOLUME, 

ENTITLED 


"BOSOM    FOES." 


G.    W.    Car  let  on  &*  Co.,  Publishers, 
NEW   YORK. 


THE 

TWO   BARBARAS. 


GRACE    MORTIMER, 

AUTHOR    OF 

'BOSOM    FOES,"     "PAPER    WALLS,"    ETC.,     ETC. 


Wilt  them  learn  what  lovo  is  worth  ? 
Ah  I    She  sits  above, 
Sighing,    "  Weigh  mo  not  with  earth, 
Love's  worth  is  love." 

JEAN  INGELOW. 


NEW    YORK: 

G.    W.    Carleton  &    Co.,  Publishers. 

LONDON:     S.   LOW    &  CO. 
MDCCCLXXVI. 


COPYKIGHTED,    1876,   BY 

G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO. 


JOHN  F.  TROW  &  SON, 

PRINTERS  AND  STEREOTYPERS, 

205-213  East  i2t/i  Street, 

NEW  YORK. 


TO 

fltu .  iHotfjtr : 

WHO   GAVE  ME  ALL    THE   GEMS 
WHICH  GLIMMER  UPON   THE   MODEST    WEB   HEREIN   UNROLLED 

BELIEF  IN  TRUE  LOVE; 

RESPECT    FOR    STERLING    WORTH    WHEREVER    FOUND; 

SYMPATHY    WITH    THE    ERRING; 

AND    ASSURANCE    OF    THEIR    PARDON    WHEN 

REPENTANT. 

New    York,   March,    1876. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

L—  Barry,  the  First  Barbara. 9 

II.— Out  in  the  Cold  World 17 

III.— Barb,  the  Second  Barbara 32 

IV.— Barry's  Chosen  Path 43 

V.— Another  Mother-heart  to  be  Crushed 59 

VI.— Fair  Face,  Foul  Heart i 68 

VII. — Woman's  Love  versus  Man's  Passion 83 

VIII.— The  Hands  that  Helped  Barry  on  her  Way 99 

IX.— The  Hands  that  Would  have  Saved  her 113 

X.— A  Long  Way  on  her  Chosen  Path 131 

XI. — The  Hearts  she  Trampled  by  the  Way 141 

XII.-A  Last  Appeal 159 

XIII.— Little  Barb  whom  Angels  Loved 172 

XIV.— What  Devils  Did  with  Her 184 

XV. — A  Princess  of  Earth  and  a  Princess  of  Heaven 197 

XVI.— Barry's  Revenge 215 

XVII.— Little  Barb  Bears  the  Brunt 229 

XVIII.— How  Appearances  were  Head 238 

XIX.— For  and  Against 252 

XX.— God's  White  Page  Smirched 273 

XXI.— Back  from  Death's  Portal 286 

XXII.  —The  Crucible 296 

XXIII.— Gold  Refined— Love  Sublimed 308 

XXIV.— "  And  He  Arose,  .and  said.  .Peace,  be  Still !  " 322 

XXV.— Repentance  aud  Expiation 331 

XXVI.— And  So,  Sweet  Friends,  Farewell 340 


THE    TWO    BARBARAS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BARRY     THE   FIRST   BARBARA. 

down  the  rugged  mountain-path,  her 
cheeks  flaming,  her  hair  streaming,  her  great 
red-brown  eyes  flashing! 
"  1  won't !  I  won't !  I  won't !  "  screamed  Barbara 
Pomerpy,  and  the  barren  mountain-peaks  echoed  back 
her  iierce  cry  ;  and  the  light  wind  caught  it  up  and 
carried  it  across  the  deep,  dark  lake  to  the  black  row 
of  pines  and  silver-leaved  aspens ;  and  the  pines 
stood  transfixed,  while  the  aspens  shivered. 

A  grand  creature  was  this  mountain  maid  ;  boun- 
teous in  outline,  statuesque  in  limb ;  her  coloring 
superb  ;  her  motions  strong  and  graceful  as  those  of 

any  bounding  deer. 
1* 


10  BARRY,   THE  FIRST  BARBARA. 

What  if  her  dress  Avas  calico,  neither  ruffled  nor 
trailing?  her  rich,  exuberant  beauty  would  have 
made  you  forget  her  dress,  had  it  been  the  gem-be- 
spangled, ermine-bordered  robe  of  royalty. 

She  sprang  upon  a  rustic  bridge  which  spanned  a 
rivulet  Above,  the  waters  leaped  in  glancing  cas- 
cades; here,  under  this  rotten,  vine-swathed  arch, 
they  stood  still,  resting  them  for  the  wild  leap  into 
the  valley  down  there.  She  stood  still  also,  looking 
about  her  vacantly. 

"  What  am  I  doing  here  ? "  whispered  Barbara 
Pomeroy,  paling  to  the  red,  ripe  lips.  "Am  I  going 
mad  ?  Lord,  have  mercy  !  How  did  I  come  here  ? " 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  bare  head  ;  the  scorching 
sun  beat  full  upon  it ;  she  looked  back  at  the  wind- 
ing, precipitous  path  she  had  traversed,  up,  up  the 
autumn-crimsoned  hillside,  to  the  sharp  white  gable 
of  a  solitary  house,  and  a  choking  gasp  escaped  her. 

She  went  to  the  crazy  rail  and  leaned  far  over  it, 
till  her  long,  black  hair,  and  her  reaching  hand  al- 
most touched  its  shining  surface. 

"I'd  rather  die  than  marry  Dr.  Hugh  Wayne 
now  !  "  she  muttered  between  her  clenched  teeth. 
"  Wedding  clothes,  bridesmaids,  lover's  kisses — oh  ! 
oh!  why  can't  I  fling  myself  down  there?  Why 
don't  I  ?  I  will,  some  day  1  "  she  hissed,  her  eyes 
gleaming. 


BARRY,   THE  FIRST  BARBARA.  11 

"  Barry  !  My  dear  Barry !  "  exclaimed  a  shocked 
voice  behind  her. 

She  started  round — face,  neck,  even  to  her  firm, 
round,  uncovered  arms,  assuming  a  burning  glow. 

For  he  was  that  demi-god  to  country  maidens — a 
soft-torigued,  gallant,  idle  city  gentleman ;  and  he 
had  passed  a  most  amusing  month  up  there  among 
the  lonely  mountains,  with  this  enchanting  dryad  to 
give  him  the  homage  which  he  felt  was  due  to  a  man 
of  his  superior  merits. 

"  Harrison !  "  faltered  the  girl,  "  where  were  you  ? 
I  didn't  see  you." 

"  I  rather  agree  with  you  there,  my  dear,"  smiled 
the  keen  man  of  pleasure,  gloating  his  eyes  upon  her 
quivering,  conscious  face.  "What  a  young  Hecate 
you  are!  You  tore  down  that  deer-path  like  a 
veritable  fury.  Now,  why  would  you  rather  die  than 
marry  the  excellent  doctor  at  this  juncture?" 

She  turned,  abashed,  from  his  smiling  gaze,  and 
leaned  over  the  rail  of  the  old  bridge  once  more. 

He  joined  her,  leaning  there  elbow  to  elbow,  with 
his  breath  fanning  the  cheek  of  the  girl,  whose  heart, 
erring  as  it  was,  as  yet  was  unsullied  as  heart  of 
cradled  infant. 

"  Won't  answer,  eh?"  laughed  he.  "Yery  good, 
you  needn't  trouble  ;  perhaps  I  can  guess  more  truly 
than  you  would  tell  me.  You  want  to  throw  your- 


12  BARRY,   THE  FIRST  BARBARA. 

eelf  into  this  stream,  and  end  all  the  marriage  flutter 
and  lover's  kisses  in  the  maddest,  saddest  grave  this 
world  can  afford?"  lie  was  serious  enough  now, 
'and  gravity  sat  well  upon  him.  "  Do  yon  see  those 
pebbles  at  the  bottom  ? "  The  sun  lighting  up  the 
shingle  bed  through  the  amber  water  revealed  them 
gleaming  with  opalescent  hues,  rich  deep  blue,  bril- 
liant green,  gold  and  bronze  colored,  like  fairy  gems. 
""Who  notices  those  worthless  stones  as  they  lie 
there  ? "  asked  he.  "  Their  beauty  is  taken  by  the 
country  dolts  who  are  used  to  them  as  a  matter  of 
course.  But  let  a  cultivated  eye  catch  a  glimpse  of 
their  splendor;  oh,  then  they  are  appreciated  !  The 
proudest  beauty-lover  in  New  York  would  call  them 
beautiful.  So  with  you,  Barry."  He  looked  into 
her  eyes  with  a  luring  smile,  and  she,  blushing  and 
bewitched,  lowered  her  long  lashes,  trembling. 
"  Yes,  you  are  too  lovely  to  be  buried  forever  among 
the  wilds  of  Thunder  Peak,"  resumed  he;  "and 
your  own  heart  revolts  at  the  unnatural  idea.  Any 
drawing-room  would  be  honored  by  the  presence  of 
such  royal  beauty.  Then  what  have  you  to  do  in  a 
country  doctor's  dingy  parlor  ? " 

A  low  sob  escaped  her — instantly  suppressed,  how- 
ever— as  her  cheek  burned  more  brightly,  and  her 
eyes  sparkled  with  anger. 

"And  I've  just  heard  that  the  wedding  is  to  be 


BARRY,   THE  FIR'ST  BARBARA. 


13 


a  week  sooner,  because  Hugh  has  to  go  to  Albany  on 
business,"  said  she,  wrathfully  plucking  the  leaves  off 
the  old  rail,  and  tearing  them  to  pieces.  "  Why  can't 
he  see  that  I  ain't  in  a  hurry  ?  Why  don't  he  ever 
suspect  that  I  care  no  more  for  him  than  I  do  for 
this  trash  ? "  and  she  sent  a  long  honeysuckle  spray 
spinning  into  the  brook. 

"  And  you  don't  care  one  particle  for  him  ? " 
queried  her  companion,  beaming. 

"  You  know  I  don't !  "  said  she,  flashing  an  arrow 
glance  at  him. 

"  Because  you  are  heartless,  eh  ? "  whispered  the 
gentleman. 

"  No !  "  said  Barry,  softly. 

"Why,  then,  why?" 

"  I've  tried  to,  and  I  can't." 

"  Then  you  like  some  one  better?  " 

No  answer  to  this. 

"  Do  you,  Barry  ?  " 

Still  no  answer ;  nothing  but  drooping  head  and 
burning  cheeks. 

"  Barry,  I  have  guessed  it  long  ago.  You  love 
me!" 

Ah,  the  passionate  eloquence  of  the  rich,  bending 
face !  the  slow  swell  of  the  sumptuous  bosom :  the 
yielding,  yet  half -reluctant  attitude  —  womanly-- 
modest ! 


14:  llll?7?r,    THE  FIRST  BARBARA. 

"  Yon  do  !  You  do,  my  sweet  girl !  "  breathed  the 
luring  voice  in  her  ear,  while  the  soft  hands,  dia- 
mond bedecked,  of  the  city  gentleman  seized  the 
brown  ones  of  the  country  maid,  pressing  them  with 
practised  eloquence.  "  If  we  had  only  met  before 
this  foolish  engagement  was  made,  how  blest  for 
both  of  us!  But  now —  "  He  drew  her  to  his 
breast  with  a  sigh. 

She  looked  up,  shy,  yet  radiant  as  a  goddess. 

"  You  love  me,  too,  don't  you,  Harrison  ? "  mur- 
mured she. 

"  As  I  shall  never  love  again." 

She  yielded  yet  more  to  his  encircling  arm. 

"Then  don't  be  unhappy,  for  nobody  on  earth 
could  be  so  cruel  as  to  part  two  people  who  love 
each  other  like  we  do ! "  cried  she,  with  a  burst  of 
joy.  "  Hugh  is  a  good  fellow,  and  will  give  me  up, 
I  know,  when  we  tell  him  just  how  it  is  ;  and  then 
mother — oh,  she  couldn't  cross  me  in  anything.  I'm 
the  very  apple  of  her  eye  !  " 

Harrison  Fairleigh,  eldest  son  of  the  ancient  Vir- 
ginian family  of  that  name,  possessor  of  eighty  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year,  and  ornament  of  Fifth  Avenue 
and  Harlem  Road,  stared  at  the  girl  in  his  arms 
in  consternation,  which  gradually  brightened  into 
amusement. 

He  indemnified  himself  for  the  momentary  discorn- 


BABRY,   THE  FIRST  BARBARA.^  15 

fort  he  had  suffered,  in  robbing  her  pure  lips  of  a 
kiss. 

"  You  witch,  you  almost  make  the  thing  seem  pos- 
sible !  "  exclaimed  he.  "  How  I  envy  those  country 
clods  of  Thunder  Peak !  For  if  I  were  one  of  them 
I  might  hope  to  marry  you ;  but  now " 

"But  now?"  gasped  Barry,  opening  her  innocent 
eyes  wide. 

The  amusement  in  Fairleigh's  glance  sent  a  sud- 
den rush  of  flame  through  all  her  veins.  She  freed 
herself  with  one  movement,  and  stood  off,  gazing  at 
him  wildly. 

"  Harrison  Fairleigh,"  panted  she,  "  I  don't  seem 
to  get  at  your  meaning.  "Will  you  put  it  in  plainer 
words?" 

"  Mercy  on  us,  what  a  young  tigress  you  are  !  " 
ejaculated  he,  impatiently.  "What  should  I  mean 
but  that,  much  as  I  love  you,  it's  impossible  for  me 
to  marry  you." 

Her  ashen  pallor  frightened  him.  He  stopped, 
scarcely  aware  of  what  he  had  said. 

"  And  you've  made  me  say  I  loved  you ! "  said 
Barry,  in  a  choked  voice.  "  You've  tempted  me  on 
to  show  you  all  my  heart ;  you've  dared  to  kiss  me — 
to  put  your  arms  round  me — me,  a  good  man's  prom- 
ised wife !  Oh,  you  villain  !  "  cried  she,  her  voice 
rising  to  frantic  fierceness.  "  You  meant  to  deceive 


16  &  BARRY,   THE  FIRST  BARBARA. 

an  innocent  girl,  did  you?  I  tell  you,  Harrison 
Fairleigh,  if  I  knew  how  to  do  it,  I'd  murder  you 
where  you  stand — I  would  !  But  wait ;  God1!!  never 
let  you  off  with  this.  lie  ain't  so  unfair  as  all  that 
comes  to.  Look  out — you'll  suffer  yetj  and  as 
heaven's  above,  I'll  do  my  best  to  be  at  the  bottom 
of  it ! " 

For  a  moment  she  stood  menacing  him  with  her 
clenched  hand,  scorching  him  up  with  her  blazing 
eyes ;  then  she  sprang  off  the  bridge,  and  immedi- 
ately disappeared  in  the  forest,  leaving  the  gallant  to 
pick  up  his  fishing-gear  and  trudge  homeward  with 
a  very  grim  visage. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OUT  IN  THE   COLD   WORLD 

.ENSSELAER'S  LANDING,  on  the  Hudson, 
a  pleasant  sail  from  New  York,  was  the 
scene  of  Dr.  Hugh  Wayne's  labors.  It  was 
a  bustling  country  townlet,  possessing  as  yet  but  one 
or  two  manufactories,  and  nestling  luxuriously  in  the 
lap  of  rich  green  meadows,  under  the  shelter  of  the 
gloomy  Thunder  Peak. 

The  zig-zag  road  between  Rensselaer's  Landing  and 
the  few  settlers'  houses,  hidden  up  in  the  forest,  had 
for  the  last  two  years  almost  daily  witnessed  the 
passing  of  Hugh  Wayne  to  worship  at  the  shrine  of 
the  mountain  maid  ;  for  he  had  wooed  her  long  and 
patiently. 

He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow,  over  six  feet  in 
height,  lithe,  and  firmly-built,  with  ruddy  face  and 
the  frankest  eye  imaginable.  He  had  graduated 
creditably  at  Yale,  gone  to  Berlin  for  a  year,  and  re- 
turned to  his  native  place,  Rensselaer's  Landing,  to 
buy  the  prettiest  cottage  in  the  village,  beside  his 
father's,  and  to  walk  into  an  excellent  practice,  with- 


was  i 


en 


• 
18  •  OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD. 

out  an/undue.  delay.  Such  a  big-hearted  fellow  he 
Such  a -pretty,  dainty  home  as  he  had!  No 

iminbrance ;  'the  kindest,  prettiest  woman  in  Eens- 
selaer.  Jus  sister,  to  keep  house  for  him  ;  and  patients 
from  north,  south,  east,  and  west  driving  in  to  con- 
sult him.  No  wonder  the  belles  of  Eensselaer's  Land- 
ing blushed  their  prettiest  when  Dr.  Hugh  Wayne 
rode  by  on  his  dashing  little  mare,  Coquette.  He  let 
them  blush,  while  he  climbed  up  the  stiff  hill-side 
with  beating  heart  to  court  a  smile  from  beautiful 
Barbara  Pomeroy. 

Now,  Mrs.  Pomeroy  was  that  most  indigent  of 
ladies,  a  country  minister's  widow.  Once  she  lived 
in  that  pretty  parsonage  in  the  heart  of  the  village, 
surrounded  with  trim  plots  of  flowers  and  furnished 
with  the  neatest  of  upholstery.  But  when  good 
Arthur  Pomeroy  died  she  was  forced  to  retire  into 
veritable  obscurity,  hiding  in  the  pine  woods  at  the 
foot  of  Thunder  Peak,  in  an  old  farm-house,  with 
her  crabbed  step-brother,  who,  with  his  barns  burst- 
ing, and  his  cattle  browsing  far -and  near,  grudged 
the  widow's  pittance,  and  gave  her  the  "bitter  bread 
of  dependence  to  eat  day  by  day.  True,  some  there 
were  who  could  recall  the  time  when  Arthur  Pom- 
eroy came  to  their  little  village  with  his  lovely  young 
wife ;  and  these  were  fond  of  hinting  at  a  pre-history 
more  distinguished  than  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of  an 


OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD.  19 

American  citizen,  at  least  as  far  as  the  young  clergy- 
man was  concerned.  At  all  events,  he  was  an  Eng- 
lishman, but  lately  come  from  the  Old  World  to  seek 
free  breathing  space  in  the  New,  and  though  absorbed 
in  his  sacred  duties,  and  satisfied  with  the  love  of  his 
charming  American  wife,  he  seldom  alluded  to  his 
previous  life  or  family,  the  acute  gossips  had  long 
suspected  that  the  reverend  Arthur  was  the  younger 
son  of  some  fine  old  house  which  all  too  probably  had 
been  mortally  offended  by  his  democratic  marriage. 

However  that  might  be,  at  his  death  his  widow 
made  no  appeal  to  her  husband's  relatives,  but,  churl- 
ish as  her  step-brother  was,  appeared  to  pjefer  to  de- 
pend upon  him  to  asking  charity  from  those  who 
perhaps  had  more  right  to  bestow  it,  and  here  West, 
miserable  old  miser  though  he  was,  upheld  her.  They 
were  right,  too,  and  in  the  exercise  of  their  stout1 
American  independence,  proved  their  claim  to-  a 
pride  of  spirit  as  deserved  as  any  born  of  noble 
birth. 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  might  or  might  not  know  her  hus- 
band's antecedents.  She  never  revealed  them  to  her 
neighbors,  nor  even  to  her  daughter,  but  people  can 
have  their  impressions,  you  know,  and  so  the  ancient 
fable  had  its  place  in  the  public  mind,  and  Barry  was 
looked  upon,  therefore,  with  peculiar  attention ;  while 
the  widow  received  much  unspoken  sympathy  on  ac- 


20  OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD. 

count  of  the  hard  life  she  led  with  her  only  surviving 
relative. 

The  truth  was,  Eichard  West  was  a  greedy,  grasp- 
ing old  miser,  half-killing  himself  every  summer  by 
trying  to  do  all  the  work  of  his  farm  himself  rather 
than  engage  hands;  and  starving  himself  and  his 
household  the  year  round  in  order  to  keep  down  the 
expense— and  all  this  for  what?  For  the  miserable 
satisfaction  of  plunging  his  skinny  hands  into  his  bag 
of  hoarded  gold,  and  chuckling  over  the  mere  posses- 
sion of  a  metal  which  was  in  effect  as  useless  as  a  bag 
of  stones  to  him,  or  to  any  one  else  while  he  was  alive. 

Perhaps  he  meant  to  leave  it  all  to  Barbara  ?  Noth- 
ing of  the  sort:  he  never  thought  of  leaving  it  to 
any  one.  The  idea  of  his  ever  having  the  misfortune 
to  die  at  all  seemed  so  unnatural  that  he  never 
entertained  it  for  a  moment. 

•  Meantime,  the  minister's  widow  and  her  lovely 
daughter  clung  together,  and  were  happy 'and  thank- 
ful to  have  each  other  to  cling  to  and  a  roof  to 
shelter  them. 

"Hugh  must  wait;  I  can't  leave  "you,  mother," 
Barry  would  often  say,  as  she  briskly  stepped  about 
in  the  kitchen.  For,  be  sure,  she  was  the  household 
drudge,  or  how  else  could  she  pay  her  board  ?  "  It's 
all  very  nice  for  him  to  speak  of  your  coming  to  live 
with  us  down  in  the  village,  but  a  wife  can't  be 


OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD.  21 

everything  to  her  mother,  as  an  unmarried  daughter 
can ;  you'd  have  many  a  lonely  hoar,  I  know." 

Yet  Mrs.  Fomeroy  liked  Hugh,  and  it  would  have 
pleased  her  to  see  her  daughter  married  to  him. 
******  * 

"What  makes  you  so  wan,  child?"  asked  Mrs. 
Pomeroy,  that  evening,  when,  the  tea-dishes  washed 
and  set  away  in  shining  rows  behind  the  glass-doors 
of  the  cupboard,  the  floor  dusted  white  as  snow,  and 
the  lamp  lit  on  the  big  wooden  table,  Barry  sat  at 
her  side,  her  lap  full  of  white  muslin  frilling,  which 
her  fingers  were  bungling  badly.  Dr.  Wayne  sat 
opposite,  pulling  his  tanned  mustache  and  eyeing  her 
with  uneasy  wonder. 

Nettie  Wayne,  his  sister,  and  Lizzie  Bright,  his 
cousin,  the  prospective  bridesmaids,  wrere  plying  their 
needles  on  the  simple  trousseau  behind  a  mound  of 
gauzes  and  glistening  ribbons,  merrily  chattering  as 
they  worked ;  and  the  master  of  the  house,  gaunt 
and  hollow- chested,  leaned  back  in  his  hard  elbow- 
chair,  with  his  cold  feet  in  the  ashes  on  the  hearth, 
dozing  and  grunting. 

At  her  mother's  query,  Barry  started,  and  called 
up  a  smile  of  surprise. 

"  Nonsense,  mother !  "  exclaimed  she,  "  am  I  pale, 
though  ?  Perhaps  I  got  a  sunstroke  going  out  with- 
out a  hat  on  to-day." 


22  OUT  IN  THE  COLD   WORLD. 

Dr.  "Wayne  gnawed  his  mustache  still  more  un- 
easily. 

"  What  sent  you  off  at  that  time,  anyhow  ?  "  asked 
he,  trying  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Barry's  down- 
dropped  eyes. 

"  Yes,  what  on  earth  took  you,  Barry  ? "  the  girls 
chimed  in.  "  You  whisked  off  and  down  hill  as  if  a 
rattlesnake  was  after  you." 

"  Did  I  ? "  said  Barry,  with  a  dreary  little  laugh. 
"I  guess  I  was  tired  sewing,  and  wanted  a  race. 
Hugh,  would  you  like  to  read  something  to  us  ? " 

Obedient  Hugh  went  to  the  hanging  bookshelf, 
and  taking  down  a  volume  of  poetry — Mrs.  Pome- 
roy's  property — insinuated  himself  into  the  chair  by 
Barry,  and  opened  at  a  love  poem,  of  course. 

Dr.  AVayne  was  an  elegant  reader,  and  he  was  pro- 
foundly in  love  ;  judge,  then,  how  he  read  this  frag- 
ment from  Heine : 

"  It's  only  an  old,  old  story, 

That  there  goes  but  little  to  make, 
Yet,  to  whomso  it  happens, 
His  heart  in  two  must  break." 

"  Don't,"  gasped  Barry,  rising  hastily,  and  running 
from  the  room. 

Mrs.  Pomeroy's  sweet,  venerable  face  looked  round 
at  Hugh  in  startled  dismay. 


OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD.  23 

"  She's  ill,  I  think,"  muttered  the  young  doctor, 
hurrying  out  after  her. 

He  saw  her  leaning  against  the  tumble-down  gate- 
post of  the  little  garden,  which  it  had  ever  been  her 
delight  to  cultivate — leaning  with  her  dear  face  hid- 
den in  her  hands,  and  the  tears  which  dripped  from 
between  her  fingers  glancing  in  the  effulgent  moon- 
light. 

At  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  she  dashed  away  her 
tears,  and  looked  up,  laughing. 

"  Am  I  not  foolish,  Hugh  ?  "  said  she,  with  nervous 
gayety.  "All  this  fuss  just  because  I  can't  endure 
the  thought  that  love — that  love — must — must  break 
the  heart  that  feels  it !  " 

She  burst  into  a  wild  fit  of  sobbing,  and  more  pain- 
ful than  all}  she  mingled  her  rending  sobs  with  hys- 
terical laughter. 

Her  lover  caught  her  hands  and  held  them  firmly. 
For  the  moment  the  lover  was  forgotten  in  the  doc- 
tor ;  he  thought  she  was  ifl. 

"  Let  me  take  you  back  to  the  house,  Barry,"  said 
he,  tenderly.  "  By  and  by  you  must  tell  me  what  has 
upset  you." 

She  forced  back  her  turbulent  emotion — she  made 
a  mighty  effort  and  calmed  herself. 

"  Hugh,  dear,  I'm  only  tired,"  said  she  ;  "  nothing 
in  the  world  is  the  matter  else.  Don't  worry  poor 


24  OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD. 

mother  "  (her  voice  shook,  she  coughed,  and  hurried 
on)  "  with  my  megrims,  and  don't  you  worry  either. 
1  ain't  worth  it." 

He  gazed  wistfully  into  the  white,  averted  face. 

"  Do  you  know,  Barry,  I  begin  to  think  I  rather 
startled  you  this  morning,  hurrying  on  the  wed- 
ding ? "  said  he. 

She  murmured  something  indistinctly,  meaning, 
he  thought,  to  reassure  him. 

"  You  know,  dear,  I  wouldn't  do  anything  to  trouble 
you,"  said  Hugh,  his  deep  tones  trembling  ;  "I  love 
you  too  well  for  that.  Dear  Barry,  I  love  you  so 
well,  that  if  I  thought  you  would  not  be  happy  with 
me,  I'd  give  you  back  your  freedom  to-night." 

She  stood  motionless,  pale  as  death,  regarding 
him. 

"  Hugh,"  said  she,  at  length,  in  a  low,  hard  voice, 
"  do»you  really  love  me  3  " 

"  God  knows  I  do,"  answered  he,  solemnly. 

"  And  yet  you'd  give  me  up !  "  she  cried,  breath- 
lessly. 

"  If  it  made  you  happier,"  faltered  Hugh. 

"  And  you — what  about  yonr  happiness  ?  " 

"  I'd  bear  the  loss  of  it  like  a  man,  I  hope." 

She  stood  before  him  a  moment  longer,  looking  at 
him  with  her  great  night-black  eyes  as  if  she  had 
never  really  seen  him  before.  Then  she  clasped  his 


OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD.  25 

arm  with  her  two  cold,  shaking  hands,  and  bent  her 
face  upon  them,  gasping  : 

"  Dear,  true-hearted  Hugh  Wayne !  you  deserve  a 
better  wife  than  I.  Oh  !  why  were  you  ever  so  un- 
lucky as  to  care  for  me  '(  " 

"Hush!  hush?  Don't,  Barry,  my  darling;  you 
wring  my  heart  when  you  speak  so  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
shocked  and  alarmed. 

"  I'm  bound  to  break  it,  Hugh  !  "  wept  Barry,  kiss- 
ing his  hand  in  the  wildest  way.  "  Oh !  you  good, 
dear  Hugh  !  if  I  ever  grieve  or  wound  you,  will  you 
try  to  forgive  me,  and  to  remember  that  I  told  you  I 
wasn't  good  enough  to  be  your  wife  ?  And  will  you 
never  forget  that  I  told  you  to-night  I  love  and  honor 
you  so  much  that  I  wish — I  wish  I  could  die  right 
here,  with  your  good  opinion  of  me  unchanged  '( " 

Her  vehemence,  her  pallor,  and  the  unwonted 
wildness  of  her  words,  completed  his  bewilderment. 
He  could  only  stand  there  looking  at  her  help- 
lessly. 

AVhat  did  Barry  mean  ?  These  \vere  not  the  usual 
tender  agitations  of  a  bride-elect.  Barry  was  not  ill, 
she  was  in  trouble.  Good  Heaven!  was  Barry  re- 
gretting f 

"  You  are  not  yourself  to-night,  darling  Barry," 
said  Hugh,  in  a  hushed  voice,  through  which  the  beat- 
ing of  his  heart  could  be  heard ;  "  something  has 
2 


26  OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD. 

happened  to  worry  you.  Have  I  said  or  done  any- 
thing ? 

"  No,  no ! "  said  she,  shrinking. 

"  Has  anybody  else  ? " 

"  Hugh,  don't — don't  tease  !  I  told  you  I  was  tired 
to  death,  and  nervous.  There,  I've  spoken  crossly  to 
him !  "  and  she  burst  out  sobbing  again. 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  bent  to  comfort  her 
with  kisses. 

"What!  "Was  this  his  bride-elect  drawing  back — 
patting 'up  her  shaking  hands  to  ward  him  off — cov- 
^ring  her  convulsed  face  lest  he  should  read  it  ? 

"  Oh,  Barry,  Barry !  What  have  I  done  ?  "  burst 
from  Hugh  Wayne,  with  an  exceeding  bitter  cry. 

"  For — forgive  me !  "  stammered  she,  "  I  scarcely 
know  what  I  do  or  say.  Come  to-morrow  morning, 
and — and  I'll  let  you  know  what  worries  me." 

Leaning  for  support  on  the  vine-draped  gate-post, 
the  moonbeams  falling  full  upon  her  pallid,  disturbed 
countenance  and  tear-filled  eyes,  she  stretched  out 
her  hand  to  her  lover. 

"  Good-by — good-night,  I  mean,"  said  she,  huskily. 
"  You've  always  been  so  good  to  me  that  it  hurts  me 
to  wound  you.  No,  dear — no  kiss  to-night.  Spare 
me  ;  I'm  very  weak." 

Grasping  his  hand  tightly,  she  gave  him  a  long, 
heart-broken,  despairing  look,  then  turning  away 


OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD.  27 

with  a  choking  sob,  she  slowly  crept  to  the  cottage 
door  between  the  dew-diamonded  flowers.  Once  she 
stopped,  glancing  back,  with  her  hand  pressed  to  her 
heart,  but  at  his  impetuous  spring  forward,  she  waved 
him  back,  and  went  in. 

So  then  the  young  bridegroom  that  was  to  claim 
her  in  a  week,  rode  down  the  leafy  road  with  a  heart 
as  heavy  as  lead,  and  a  mind  as  full  of  torturing  fore- 
bodings as  a  mind  might  be. 

******* 

"  Mother  !  mother !  "  whispered  a  faint  voice  in 
the  dark. 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  waked  out  of  her  first  nap,  and  sat 
up  affrighted. 

"  Goodness,  Barry,  is  it  you  ? "  exclaimed  she. 

"  Hush !  "  whispered  Barry,  "  the  girls  will  hear 
and  be  frightened.  There's  nothing  the  matter,  only 
I  can't  sleep,  and  I  thought  I'd  come  and  sit  beside 
you  for  a  minute  or  two.  Lie  down  again,  mother, 
it's  cold." 

"  Have  you  and  Hugh  been  quarrelling  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Pomeroy,  sweeping  aside  the  curtain  from  the 
window  beside  her,  that  she  might  see  her  daughter 
by  the  last  rays  of  the  sinking  moon. 

"  No,  indeed !  "  laughed  Barry,  looking  very  beau- 
tiful and  ghost-like  in  that  magical  light.  "  Mother, 
I  wouldn't  marry  Hugh  if  I  was  not  perfectly  satis- 


28  OUT  IN  THE  COLD   WORLD. 

fied  with  him  ;  and  you  wouldn't  want  me  to,  would 
you?" 

"  Certainly  not !  "  cried  the  mother.  "No  woman 
has  a  riijlit  to  take  advantage  of  a  man's  love  to  fool 
him  so  cruelly  as  that!  But  you  love  Hugh,  of 
course." 

"  Too  much  to  be  in  any  danger  of  fooling  him  as 
you  say ;  if  I  married  Hugh  without  thinking  him 
the  best  man  on  earth,  I  would  feel  as  if  I  was  just 
selling  myself  for  the  sake  of  a  home." 

"May  you  be  as  happy  as  you  'deserve,  my  dar- 
ling ! "  said  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  kissing  her  tenderly. 
"  What,  crying !  What's  the  meaning  of  this, 
Barry  ? " 

"Did  you  never  cry  during  the  last  few  days 
before  you  were  married?  "  answered  Barry,  with  a 
dreary  attempt  at  playfulness. 

"Ah,  well,  perhaps  I  did— perhaps  I  did!" 
murmured  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  "but  it  was  for  joy, 
Barry." 

"You  were  sorry  to  part  from  your  mother,  I 
know,"  said  Barry,  almost  inaudibly. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  wasn't  so  sorry  as  I  ought  to  have 
been,"  answered  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  "  and  anyway,  you're 
not  going  to  part  from  your  mother  for  very  long. 
I'm  coming  to  you  soon." 

Barry  suddenly  stooped   and    took    the  frail  old 


OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD.  29 

woman  in  her  arms,  lifting  her  to  her  breast  in  an 
impetuous  way. 

"  Love  me,  love  me  always,  mother,"  said  she, 
trembling  with  suppressed  feeling.  "  Whatever  be- 
falls me,  mother,  never  let  me  go  out  of  the  corner 
in  your  heart  where  you  have  kept  me  so  long.  And 
now  good-night  —  good-night  !  " 

She  kissed  her  once,  twice,  with  a  strange  and 
solemn  fervor,  and  laying  her  tenderly  back  upon 
her  pillow  stole  from  the  bedroom. 


!  Barry  !  "  roared  old  West,  as  he  stood  in 
the  red  dawn  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  which  led  to 
the  loft  occupied  by  his  niece. 

The  kitchen  fire  was  unlit,  the  milking-pails  were 
still  on  the  bench,  not  a  soul  was  stirring  in  or  out, 
and  it  was  an  hour  past  the  usual  time  for  Barry  to 
be  up  and  doing.  What  in  the  name  of  sense  had 
got  into  the  girl  ? 

"  Barry  !  "  roared  the  miser  again,  in  a  voice  that 
shook  the  rafters. 

A  smothered  giggle  came  from  the  room  where 
the  bridesmaids  lay,  and  the  floor  of  Mrs.  Pomeroy's 
bedroom  creaked,  advertising  to  her  scowling  bene- 
factor, that  he  had  frightened  her  out  of  bed  ;  but  no 
whisper  came  from  the  loft. 

"  Blamed  if  the  girl  ain't  turned  deaf  !  "  mumbled 


30  OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD. 

the  old  man,  mounting  the  crazy  staircase,  with  limbs 
as  creaking  and  sapless,  and  he  knocked  on  the 
worm-eaten  door,  with  knuckles  as  hard  as  iron,  till 
the  furious  din  brought  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  deprecating 
and  frightened,  from  her  room,  with  the  old  wrapper 
thrown  around  her  anyhow. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Richard !  Barry  must  be  sick,  or  she 
would  have  answered  you  long  ago,"  said  she ;  "  I'll 
go  in  and  see." 

She  went  in,  the  miser  standing  outside  to  listen 
and  muttering  to  himself ;  the  room  was  neat,  the 
window  was  wide,  everything  was  in  its  place,  even 
to  the  jug  of  flowers  on  the  mantel-piece ;  but  Barry 
was  gone. 

"  She's  out  to  her  work,"  said  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  with 
some  resentment.  "Barry  never  oversleeps  her- 
self." 

"  She  ain't  gone  to  her  work,"  said  West,  roughly. 
"Everything's  lying  around  higgledy-piggledy,  and 
the  cows  are  starving  in  the  pen  yet.  Gone  to  her 
work,  forsooth  !  If  she  ain't  here  she's  gone  into  the 
woods  to  gather  some  of  her  rubbish.  What's  that 
letter  I  see  lying  on  the  bed  ? " 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  picked  up  a  little  envelope,  sealed. 

"  .Mercy  on  us,  it's  for  me ! "  said  she,  quite  bewil- 
dered ;  "  and  I  do  believe— yes,  it  is  from  Barry  I 
What  in  the  world " 


OUT  IN  THE  COLD    WORLD.  31 

"  Open  it,  and  see  !  "  roared  the  churl.  "  There's 
some  deviltry  here,  I'll  bet." 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  obeyed,  her  venerable  face,  lined 
with  many  an  anxious  thought  and  constant  care  for 
Barry,  assuming  a  blank  look  of  dismay. 

This  was  her  daughter's  farewell : 

"Mother:  I've  gone  away.  I  could  not  marry 
Hugh.  I  never  loved  him  well  enough  to  be  his 
wife,  and  I  couldn't  stay  to  see  his  pain  and  yours ; 
and  besides,  mother  dear,  I'm  best  away  while  I  feel 
what  I  do.  Some  day -I'll  come  back,  creeping  like 
some  tired,  wounded  bird  to  its  forsaken  nest,  but  not 
till  I've  made  another  home  for  you  and  me  in  a 
new  place.  Forgive  me,  mother  dear,  for  this  shock, 
and  leave  me  to  myself  just  now.  Don't  fret,  poor 
mother,  but  try  to  believe  this  has  all  happened  for 
the  best.  With  love  forever  and  ever,  I  remain  your 
own  sorrowful  BAEKY." 

The  aged  lady  took  all  this  in,  her  brain  reeled, 
her  heart  sickened,  and,  with  a  piercing  cry,  she  fell 
as  if  shot. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BARB,  THE   SECOND   BARBARA. 

YEEY  different  scene  from  that  of  Thun- 
der Peak,  with  its  sparkling  streams,  its 
forests,  with  the  gorgeous  colors  of  October, 
its  solitary  hush,  and  rose-perfumed  zephyrs  1 

It  was  now  November,  and  a  chilling  rain  was 
falling  in  sheets  upon  the  muddy  thoroughfares  of 
busy  New  York; — five  o'clock  on  Saturday  after- 
noon, and  the  matinee  pouring  out  of  the  Grand 
Opera  House. 

Throngs  of  ladies,  old  and  young,  shivering  under 
their  rich  velvets  and  still  more  costly  embroidered 
cloths,  hurried  across  the  steaming  pavement  to  their 
carriages ;  gentlemen,  with  trim  mustaches  and 
slender  canes,  rushed  into  the  nearest  oyster  saloons ; 
the  more  republican  of  the  throng  filled  the  horse- 
cars,  or  surged  off  the  avenue  into  the  streets  ;  a  very 
bustling  scene  indeed  was  that  in  front  of  the  build 
ing. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  and  the  little  crowd  of 


BARB,  THE  SECOND  BARBARA.       33 

dirty  idlers,  blase  men,  rakish  lads,  and  elfishly  sharp 
street  Arabs,  which  hung  about  the  stage  entrance  at 
the  rear  of  the  Opera  House,  began  to  be  rewarded 
for  their  patient  waiting  by  the  appearance  of  the 
actors  emerging  by  twos  and  threes  from  the  guarded 
entrance,  to  their  cabs — the  stars — that  is  ;  while 
the  supernumeraries,  lay  figures,  and  ballet-dancers 
trudged  afoot,  in  rusty  waterproofs,  under  well-worn 
umbrellas,  and  so  dispersed,  hustled,  and  jostled  by 
the  very  throng  they  had  amused. 

Last  of  all  these  a  young  girl  stepped  into  the 
street,  drawing  her  thin  woollen  shawl  around  her 
with  a  shiver,  as  the  cold  rain  met  her  full  sweep. 

Poor  little  creature,  as  she  stood  there  the  object 
of  as  keen  scrutiny  as  if  she  had  been  the  principal 
actress  herself,  how  helpless,  defenceless,  and  young 
she  looked ! 

On  the  stage,  when  girt  with  tarlatan  clouds  she 
spun  behind  the  foot-lights  on  one  toe,  waving  her 
well-powdered  arms,  and  posin5  her  well-padded 
figure  in  the  so-called  "poetry"  of  the  dance,  who 
could  have  imagined  that,  all  the  stage  adjuncts  laid 
aside,  the  airy,  fairy  figurante  was  only  a  slim,  pale 
girl  of  seventeen ;  narrow-shouldered,  thin-armed, 
with  no  beauty  to  commend  her  but  her  sad  misty- 
blue  eyes,  and  her  pale  rings  of  flax-yellow  hair? 

As  she  mingled  in  the  passing  throng,  she  heard  a 


34      BARB,  THE  SECOND  BARBARA. 

loud  laugh  echo  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  street, 
and  as  she  ran  along,  hoping  by  the  swiftness  of  her 
passage  to  make  up  for  the  lack  of  an  umbrella,  she 
observed  at  the  first  corner,  in  front  of  a  lager-beer 
saloon,  a  considerable  crowd,  all  seeming  to  be  so 
well  entertained  that  they  cared  neither  for  the  bit- 
ing wind  nor  for  the  soaking  rain. 

She  was  running  by,  not  much  interested  in  the 
cause  of  their  merriment,  when  a  low  cry — a  wo- 
man's cry — reached  her  ear.  The  little  ballet-dancer 
came  to  a  dead  halt,  gazing  across  the  street  with 
eager  interest,  and  by-and-by,  through  a  gap  in  the 
jocund  throng,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  woman's 
crouching  form,  which  was  being  rudely  hustled  and 
knocked  about  by  the  merry  mob.  This  was  a  com- 
mon enough  spectacle ;  why,  then,  did  the  city  girl, 
inured  to  sights  far  worse  than  this,  stand  on  the  op- 
posite pavement  as  if  chained  to  the  spot,  with  her 
wide,  innocent  blue  eyes  filling  and  brimming  over 
with  tears  ? 

She  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  woman's  face, 
flushed  and  weeping,  as  she  raised  it  for  a  moment  in 
supplication  from  her  hands,  and  it  was  so  young 
and  beautiful  that  the  ballet-dancer  could  not  tear 
herself  away  and  abandon  this  unfortunate  on  the 
brink  of  the  al  •; 

She  looked  up  and  down  the  street  as  if  to  call 


BARB,  THE  SECOND  BAEBAEA.      35 

for  help,  but  she  only  saw  the  police  hurrying  from 
different  quarters  to  disperse  the  mob.  She  gathered 
up  her  soaked  rags  and  ran  across  the  muddy  street 
right  into  the  middle  of  the  laughing  and  half -tipsy 
wretches  ;  at  the  same  moment  a  policeman  pushed 
his  way  through  them  and  seized  the  young  girl  by 
the  arm. 

She  uttered  a  scream ;  it  was  answered  by  a  shrill 
cry  from  the  ballet-dancer : 

"Let  her  be,  policeman — let  her  be ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Tell  them  to  let  me  get  to  her  ;  she's  my  sister,  and 
she's  sick!" 

"  Way,  there !  -'  said  the  policeman,  waving  apart 
the  throng  to  let  the  wretched  little  figure  join  him. 
"  Xow,  my  girl,  she's  no  more  sick  than  I  am  ;  she's 
drunJe,  that's  what  she  is." 

The  ballet-dancer  threw  her  arms  round  her,  forc- 
ing her  to  lean  upon  her. 

"She  ain't  f"  said  she,  stoutly.  "Look  at  her! 
She  ain't  one  of  them  kind  ! " 

At  the  touch  of  a  woman's  arms  and  the  sound  of 
a  woman's  voice,  the  young  girl  uncovered  her  face 
and  looked  down  at  her  protectress — for  she  was  a 
head  taller — with  dark,  terrified  eyes  and  a  distress 
in  her  beautiful  face  that  was  pitiful  to  see. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  am  drunk,"  stammered  she.  "  I 
was  looking  for  a  place — and  I'm  not  used  to  the 


36  BARB,    THE  SECOND  BARBARA. 

Btreets — and  I  got  so  tired— they  gave  me  some  wine 
to  drink — and  I  guess  it  went  to  my  head — for  I 
never  drank  wine  before." 

'  All  this  she  nttered  brokenly,  evidently  quite  con- 
fused, but  with  such  simple  earnestness,  backed  by 
such  a  slirinking  modesty,  that  it  was  impossible  to 
doubt  a  syllable. 

"  Poor  dear !  poor  dear !  "  murmured  the  ballet- 
dancer.  "  What  would  have  come  over  you  if  I 
hadn't  seen  you  ?  You  won't  take  her  to  the  station, 
policeman,  will  you? " 

"  I  guess  not !  "  said  he,  kindly.  "  Some  folks 
are  just  idiots  enough  to  give  liquor  to  a  tired  girl, 
and  then  turn  her  out  on  the  streets.  You  can  help 
her  home  I,  dare  say,  she  ain't  far  gone.  Here, 
clear  out,  will  you?  "  he  shouted  to  the  gaping  crowd, 
"  and  leave  these  girls  go  unmolested." 

He  was  obeyed,  and  so  the  little  ballet-dancer  went 
off  with  her  prize. 

A  queer  pair  truly  !  No  wonder  if  the  impatient 
passengers,  pushing  along  under  capes  and  umbrellas, 
glanced  sharply  at  them,  wondering  at  the  rich 
beauty  of  the  "  unfortunate,"  as  they  styled  her  in 
their  minds,  and  the  loving  cave  bestowed  upon  her 
by  her  wizened  little  protectress  ! 

The  helpless  girl  was  well  and  neatly  dressed  ;  her 
waterproof  was  just  the  thing  for  such  weather,  her 


BARB,  THE  SECOND  BARBARA.       37 

hat  was  quiet  and  becoming,  her  hands  were  nicely 
gloved  ;  and- the  cherry-colored  bow  at  her  throat  was 
tied  as  daintily  as  any  lady's  daughter  could  have  tied 
it.  All  the  more  piteous  was  it  to  see  the  tears  stream- 
ing over  her  flushed,  distressed  face,  her  black  hair 
half  uncoiled  on  her  shoulders,  and  her  unsteady  gait ! 

Further  and  further  east  the  ballet-dancer  guided 
her ;  they  soon  had  left  the  pleasant  precincts  of 
Broadway,  Madison,  and  Lexington  Avenues  far  be- 
hind, and  were  hurrying  along  the  poverty-stricken, 
vice-haunted  First  Avenue. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  by  either,  until  the  ballet- 
dancer  drew  the  rescued  girl  into  a  long,  dark  pas- 
sage in  a  tenement-house. 

Then  she  said : 

"  I  guess  you  ain't  used  to  such  poor  doin's  as  I 
am,  an'  my  crib  ain't  exactly  a  palace,  'specially  when 
the  old  'nn  is  in  ;  but  she's  out  charring  all  day,  so 
don't  be  frightened,  my  dear.  Come  right  up,  an' 
make  the  best  of  it." 

The  young  girl  clung  to  her,  sobbing: 

"Any  place — any  place  to  hide  in!  Only  don't 
go  away  from  me  !  " 

They  climbed  the  rickety  wooden  staircase,  flight 
by  flight,  and  at  every  landing,  as  they  passed  the 
doors  of  the  lodgers,  the  ballet-dancer  whispered  her 
companion  urgently : 


38  BARB,   THE  SECOND  BARBARA. 

"Cover  your  face,  my  dear,  they're  a  bad  lot 
here!"  . 

And  the  lovely  face  of  the  stranger  being  concealed 
in  a  corner  of  her  wet  cloak,  she  would  hurry  her 
along  as  if  Death  strode  behind  them. 

At  last,  having  ascended  to  the  very  top  of  the 
house,  the  ballet-dancer  produced  a  key  from  her 
pocket,  and  opening  a  door,  pulled  her  guest  in  and 
locked  it  again. 

Her  first  care  was  to  take  off  the  waterproof  hat 
and  gloves,  and  to  lead  her  to  a  little  narrow  bed 
covered  with  a  white  dimity-quilt  in  a  dark  corner. 

"  Lie  down,  dear  heart,  and  sleep  till  I  get  ye  a 
cup  of  tea,"  said  she,  busily  arranging  the  tiny  pil- 
lows. "  Don't  cry  any  more  now,  by-an'-by  you'll 
wake  up  quite  bright.  You're  safe  here,  and  I  won't 
stir  from  the  room,  so  jest  go  to  sleep  peaceful." 

The  young  girl  looked  up  with  shining  eyes,  while 
a  wonderful  smile  irradiated  her  whole  countenance. 
"  You  are  the  first  who  has  shown  me  human  kind- 
ness-in  this  awful  city  !  "  said  she.     "  I  might  have 
died  but  for  you  !  " 

"  Lucky  for  you  I  happened  by  when  I  did,"  said 
the  ballet-dancer,  cheerily;  and  then  she  bustled  off 
to  light  the  fire  and  prepare  her  frugal  meal,  every 
now  and  then  stealing  to  the  bedside  to  feast  her  eyes 
upon  the  beauty  of  her  guest,  who  slept  profoundly. 


BARB,   THE  SECOND  BARBARA.  39 

"  Oh,  ain't  she  splendid  !  "  aspirated  the  little  crea- 
ture, clasping  her  thin  hands  in  ecstacy.  "  She's 
handsomer  lyin'  there  without  paint  or  pads,  than 
Princess  Exilda  in  her  new  diamond  crown  and  satin 
court-dress.  My!  wouldn't  she  fill  the  house  as  the 
Grand  Sultana ! " 

And  having  paid  her  the  highest  compliment  her 
experience  could  suggest,  the  little  figurante  would 
steal  back  to  her  work,  refreshed. 

In  a  very  short  time,  however,  the  wooden  table 
was  set,  its  gray  old  boards  nicely  concealed  by  a 
pure  white  cloth,  as  coarse  almost  as  sacking,  but 
none  the  less  carefully  starched  and  ironed  for  that ; 
two  or  three  cracked  plates  and  old  knives,  three  un- 
matched cups  and  saucers,  a  coarse  loaf,  and  a  scrap 
of  butter, — these  furnished  the  board. 

The  ballet-dancer  gently  awoke  her  guest,  and  led 
her  to  the  table. 

"Now,  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  tell  me  your 
name,"  said  she,  when,  having  placed  food  before  her, 
she  sat  down  behind  the  broken-nosed  teapot,  with 
her  chin  in  her  thin  hand,  and  her  earnest  blue  eyes 
fastened  upon  the  young  girl,  feebly  illumined  by  the 
one  guttering  tallow-candle. 

The  stranger  threw  back  her  splendid  black  hair, 
and  passed  her  dark,  shapely  hands  across  her  fore- 
head. She  was  quite  herself  now,  and  looked  about 


40  BARB,   THE  SECOND  BARBARA. 

her  with  a  calm  self-possession  in  singular  contrast  to 
her  manner  half  an  hour  previously. 

"  You  have  done  me  a  kindness,"  replied  she,  fix- 
ing at  last  a  grateful  look  upon  the  ballet-dancer. 
"  I  wish  I  could  reward  you,  for  you  seem  to  be  very 
poor ;  but  I  am  worse  off  than  you  are,  for  I  have  no 
home.  My  name?  Yes,  I'll  tell  you  that,  so  that 
ever  after  you'll  know  who  thinks  of  you  gratefully. 
My  name  is  Barbara  Pomeroy." 

The  ballet-dancer  opened  her  deep  eyes  wider. 

"  Barbara  Pomeroy  !  "  echoed  she.  "  You  ain't 
fooling,  are  ye  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Barry,  astonished  by.  her  astonishment. 
"  Why  should  I  ?  What  do  you  know  of  me  ?  Have 
you  seen  any  advertisements " 

She  stopped,  turning  pale  with  alarm. 

"  I  ain't  heard  anything  about  you,"  cried  the 
ballet-dancer  ;  "  but  ain't  it  enough  to  make  one  stare 
to  meet  a  stranger  with  one's  own  name?  I  am 
Barbara  Pomeroy,  too.  Barb,  they  call  me,  for 
short." 

Barry  eyed  her  with  increasing  alarm. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  Where  are  you  from  ? "  asked 
she,  faintly. 

"  I  guess  I  don't  know,"  said  Barb,  sadly.  "  I'm 
only  a  poor  waif,  kept  by  old  Nan,  the  charwoman. 
I've  begged  with  a  basket  ever  since  I  could  remem- 


BARB,  THE  SECOND  BARBARA.      41 

her,  till  three  years  ago  I  was  lucky  enough  to  get  a 
place  at  the  Opera  House  as  ballet-girl.  Old  Nan 
says  she  picked  me  up  somewheres  at  Five  Points 
when  I  was  a  tot  in  baby-clothes." 

Barry  gradually  calmed  down  as  she  listened  to 
this  brief  autobiography ;  and  •  after  a  few  mo- 
ments' thought,  she  said : 

"  Dear  Barb,  you  have  had  a  sadder  life  than  mine, 
yet  I  think  you  are  a  better  and  a  happier  girl  to-day 
than  I  am.  Listen.  I  had  a  pleasant  home'  in  the 
beautiful  country  ;  a  dear  mother  who  loved  me,  and 
plenty  people  to  flatter  and  admire  me.  A  good  man 
fell  in  love  with  me,  and  I  promised  to  marry  him. 
I  really  meant  to,  you  know,  although  I  never  cared, 
right  down  in  my  heart,  for  him  ;  but  mother  liked 
him,  and  I  supposed  it  was  all  right.  I  would  have 
been,  too,  I  dare  say,  if  I  had  never  met  the  man  who 
stole  my  love  from  Hugh,  and  then  showed  me  how 
little  he  thought  of  it  by  telling  me  he  could  never 
marry  a  poor  girl  like  me " 

Barry  paused,  her  cheeks  ghastly  pale,  her  teeth  set, 
and  her  eyes  flashing  furiously. 

Barb  leaned  across  the  rude  tea  equipage  to  pat  her 
hand. 

"  You  gave  him  his  answer,  I'll  bet ! "  cried  she, 
admiringly.  "It's  just  the  likes  of  you  that  can  give 
'em  a  lesson  now  and  again." 


42  BARB,   THE  SECOND  BARBARA. 

"  I  did  give  him  his  answer !  "  exclaimed  Barry, 
with  a  bitter  smile.  "  But  I  ain't  done  with  him  yet, 
Barb  ;  I  \vas  to  have  married  Hugh  three  weeks  ago  : 
well,  the  very  day  the  city  gentleman  affronted  me — 
that  was  a  week  before  my  wedding — I  ran  away 
from  home." 

"What for?"  asked  Barb,  wonderingly. 

"  To  have  my  revenge  on  Harrison  Fairleigh ! " 
said  the  young  girl,  fiercely. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

BARRY'S  CHOSEN  PATH. 

ballet-dancer  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
dismay. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  "  asked  she. 
"  Nothing  wrong,  I'm  sure — nothing  that  you  wouldn't 
like  to  tell  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Oh,  keep  quiet  about  my  mother ! "  said  Barry, 
tears  rushing  to  her  eyes ;  "  I  wouldn't  have  her  know 
the  deadly  change  in  me  for  anything !  " 

"  Seems  to  me,  if  I  had  got  a  mother,  I'd  just  want 
to  go  right  into  her  arms  and  tell  her  everything  that 
troubled  me,"  said  Barb,  wistfully  ;  "  wouldn't  it  do 
me  good ! " 

"  This,"  said  Barry,  looking  up  with  cold,  hard 
face,  "  I  must  bear  alone.  It  was  my  own  fault  that 
I  fell  in  love  with  a  gentleman  who  felt  himself  so 
far  above  me  that  he  could  only  insult  me  when  he 
offered  his.  If  I'd  known  the  world  better  I  would 
not  have  been  such  a  fool.  It's  my  own  fault  that  I 
feel  so  bitter  hard  about  it  now ;  that  instead  of  stay- 
ing quietly  at  home  and  deceiving  an  honest  man, 


44  BARRTS  CHOSEN  PATH. 

I've  come,  friendless  and  penniless,  into  this  dreadful 
wicked  city,  upheld  by  the  hope  of  meeting  him  again, 
and  making  him  rue,  to  the  day  of  his  death,  the 
wrong  he  would  have  done  the  simple  country  girl." 

"  But  how  do  you  think  you  can  do  that  ?  "  asked 
Barb,  dubiously. 

"If  years  of  hard  work  and  self -improvement  can 
make  me  a  lady,"  said  Barry, "  I'm  willing  to  toil  my 
fingers  to  the  bone,  to  live  on  a  crust,  and  to  see  no- 
body, if  only  in  the  end  I  can  meet  him  on  his  own 
level,  with  my  beauty  as  dazzling  as  he  used  to  tell 
me  it  was,  and  my  manners  as  perfect  as  his  mother's 
or  sisters'.  Then  I'll  make  him  give  me  the  same 
worship  I  once  gave  him,  and  when  he  feels  he  can't 
live  without  me,  as  I  felt  about  him,  then  I'll  laugh 
at  him,  and  trample  on  his  love  as  he  did  on  mine !  " 

"  Oh !  "  murmured  Barb,  with  a  shudder,  shrinking 
back  from  the  flaming  eyes  and  clenched  hands  of 
her  guest,  u  ain't  it  too  dreadful  to  work  hard  for 
nothing  but  that  2  " 

"  'Nothing  but  that ! ' "  reiterated  Barry,  passion- 
ately. •  "  Oh,  if  I  could  see  that  day,  I'd  consent  to 
die  for  it.  I've  gone  through  so  much — so  much 
already,"  said  she,  more  gently,  "  I  think  I  can  bear 
almost  anything  now.  Parting  with  mother  and 
Hugh  was  the  worst,  for  I  daren't  give  them  any  no- 
tion what  I  went  away  for,  or  where  I  \vas  going,  and 


BARRTS  CHOSEN  PATH.  45 

I  know  that  every  day  they  hope  to  hear  from  me, 
and  I  daren't  write  lest  they  should  trace  me  out  by 
my  letter,  and  make  me  go  home,  and  all  the  while 
my  heart  is  bursting  to  hear  from  them.  When  I 
left  home  I  had  a  little  money,  and  I  took  along  one 
or  two  good  new  dresses  ;  but  I  thought  sure  I  could 
get  some  sort  of  work  right  away,  or  I  'd  never  have 
dared  to  come  with  as  little  as  I  did.  I  tried  to  get 
into  a  store  first,  for  I  understand  figures  and  would 
make  a  good  saleswoman,  but  nobody  would  have  me 
without  references ;  the  same  with  dressmakers, 
until,  my  money  having  run  out,  I  had  to  quit  the 
boarding-house  for  a  cheaper  one,  and  to  sell  my 
clothes  to  pay  a  week's  board  in  advance.  Every 
day  of  that  week  I've  been  on  my  feet  from  morning 
till  night  looking  for  any  sort  of  work  that  I  could 
do.  I'd  be  glad  enough  to  get  a  servant's  place,  so 
as  I  could  keep  a  roof  over  my  head,  but  it's  all  the 
same  wherever  I  go ;  it's  nothing  but  '  no,  no.'  I 
can't  cook  French  dishes  ;  I've  never  been  in  service 
before  ;  I  ain't  got  no  character  to  show  ;  I'm  too 
good-looking  to  be  good  ;  that's  the  sort  of  talk  I 
hear  ;  and  to-night  I  must  turn  out  of  the  only  place 
I  can  call  a  home,  and  then  Heaven  only  knows 
what's  to  become  of  me.  The  last  place  I  went  to  I 
was  so  tired  out  and  disappointed  when  they  said  they 
couldn't  take  me  that  I  fell  right  down  in  the  slop- 


46  BAERTS  CHOSEN  PATH. 

ping-wet  area  in  a  swoon.  Oh,  if  mother  could  have 
seen  me,  how  she'd 'have  cried!  So  then  the  lady 
bade  them  carry  me  into  the  kitchen,  and  made  me 
drink  the  wine  herself ;  she  meant  it  kindly,  I  know, 
but  she  didn't  understand  nor  think  how  dreadful  it 
would  be  if  it  was  to  go  to  my  head  in  the  street ; 
nor  I  didn't  understand  either,  till  I  got  out  into  the 
air,  and  everything  seemed  to  be  pitching  about  like 
the  trees  in  a  gale." 

For  a  few  moments  after  Barry's  recital  was  fin- 
ished the  two  sat  silent,  Barb  keeping  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  Barry  with  painful  interest. 

"  What  do  they  call  you  at  home  ? "  said    she,  at 
length.     "I  mean  what's   the  pet  name  that    your 
mother  always  called  yon  ?  " 
"  Barry,"  said  she,  faintly. 

"Well,  Barry,"  said  the  ballet-dancer,  earnestly, 
"  I'm  a  poor,  ignorant  thing  myself,  and  I  ain't  had 
any  one  to  love  me  and  make  rne  grow  up  good  like 
you  had,  but  it  seems  like  as  you  was  going  all  wrong 
—all  wrong,  on  this  track.  Why  don't  you  let  the 
bad  man  go  his  way,  an'  you  go  yours,  an'  be  a  good 
and  happy  girl  all  your  life  ?  " 

"  Don't  speak  of  it ! "  said  Barry,  fiercely.  "  I  live 
and  breathe  for  nothing  but  revenge.  "  I'd  kill  my- 
fielf,  I  tell  you  I  would,  if  I  didn't  hope  to  be  even 
with  him  some  day !  " 


BABRTS  CHOSEN  PATH.  47 

"  No,  no  !  "  pleaded  Barb  ;  "  you  wouldn't  he  let 
to  do  that.  If  your  mother's  a  good  woman  her 
prayers  would  drag  you  back  again." 

Barry  turned  to  her,  paling  visibly. 

"  How  do  you  know  all  this  ?  You,  a  poor  little  bal- 
let-dancer, when  I,  a  minister's  daughter,  don't  ? "  fal- 
tered she. 

"Dear  heart,  you  do  know  it,  on'y  maybe  you 
haven't  been  let  to  feel  it  yet.  I  knowed  all  about  the 
dear  Lord  Jesus  long  before  I  let  Him  right  deep 
down  inter  my  heart,  an'  now  it  seems  to  me  it's  about 
the  only  thing  I  do  know  as  clear  as  day.  I  ain't 
much  on  the  readin'  or  writin'  line,  an'  I  know  I'm 
blind  ignorant,  but  I  tell  ye  all  the  wisdom  an'  larnin' 
in  the  earth  couldn't  puzzle  me  on  that  p'int.  I  love 
Jesus  an'  He  loves  me,  an'  for  His  sake  I'll  live  jest 
as  good  as  I  can.  An'  you  must  try  to  do  the  same, 
Barry,  dear.  Leave  it  all  in  His  kind  hands,  an'  I'll 
bet  ye  won't  hev  much  trouble  any  more  ! " 

"  Oh,  do  try  to  feel  about  it  as  I  do ! "  exclaimed 
Barb,  tears  trembling  in  her  great,  hollow  eyes. 
"  You're  far  too  innocent  and  too  much  thought  of  at 
home  for  to  go  astray  like  this." 

"Child,"  said  Barry,  turning  away  bitterly,  " you 
don't  know  what  a  woman  of  spirit  is  when  her  pure 
love  has  been  trampled  upon.  Say  no  more.  You 
can't  turn  me  from  my  purpose.  Perhaps  mother's 


48  BARRY'S  CHOSEN  PATH. 

prayers  will;  but  if  they  do,  I  hope — I  hope  God 
will  take  vengeance  in  His  own  hands,  and  make 
Harrison  Fairleigh  far  more  miserable  than  ever  I 
could." 

Barb  had  stolen  round  the  table  to  her  guest's  side, 
and  was  about  to  lay  her  hand  on  her  shoulder  and 
continue  her  entreaties  yet  more  urgently,  when  a 
heavy  step  became  audible  in  the  creaking  passage 
without,  and  a  heavy  hand  rapped  boisterously  on  the 
door. 

"  It's  Kan,"  whispered  Barb,  shrinking  back  with  a 
look  of  fear.  "  I  didn't  think  it  was  so  late,  or  I'd 
have  got  you  a\vay  before  this.  But  don't  you  mind 
her,  dear,  and  promise  me  you  won't  go,  without  I 
can  go  with  you,  for  I'm  blessed  if  I'll  let  you  sleep 
in  the  streets  alone  to-night." 

"  Barb,  Barb  !  What  are  you  about  ?  "  bawled  a 
hoarse  voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  crazy  panels. 
"  Are  you  deaf  or  dumb,  gal  ?  Let  me  in  before  I 
drop,  you  lazy  hussy  ! " 

Trembling  visibly  from  head  to  foot,  Barb  un- 
locked the  door,  and  was  immediately  seized  by  the 
slight  shoulder  and  shaken  so  violently  by  a  fright- 
fully stout  woman,  whose  Cyclopean  arms,  bared  to  the 
elbow,  and  hard,  wicked,  slate-blue  eyes,  surrounded 
by  a  nest  of  wicked  little  wrinkles,  were  sufficient  to 
strike  Barry  with  consternation. 


BARRTS  CHOSEN  PATH.  49 

"  Laying  around  asleep,  I  suppose,  eh  ? "  panted 
the  woman,  throwing  the  light  form  of  the  ballet- 
dancer  from  her  with  a  violence  that  sent  her  half 
across  the  floor.  "  Now,  then,  who's  this  ?  " 

She  stood  before  Barry,  her  fat,  purple  hands 
resting  on  her  hips,  her  little,  satanic  eyes  peering  at 
her  as  she  cowered  there,  her  face  and  figure  indis- 
tinctly seen  by  the  miserable  light. 

"  She's  a  friend  of  mine,  Nan,"  said  Barb.  "  She 
only  came  in  for  a  minute ;  she's  going  away  with 
me  when  I  go  back  to  the  house." 

"  A  friend  o'  yours  !  Highty-tighty  !  "  cried  the 
old  woman,  raising  her  voice  and  scanning  the 
speaker  over  her  nose  with  the  most  imperious  scorn. 
"  And  what  right  have  you  to  bring  home  friends  to 
eat  up  my  bread  and  butter  and  drink  my  tea? 
Ain't  it  enough  that  I  keep  yourself  out  of  my  hard 
earnings,  you  good-for-nothing  young  beggar?  " 

Perhaps  Barry  Porneroy  had  heard  such  words 
herself  too  often  to  be  daunted  by  them  now,  and 
perhaps  the  cruelty  and  oppression  had  taught  her  a 
perfect  unity  of  feeling  on  this  point,  at  least,  with 
this,  her  humbler  sister.  Certain  it  is  that,  with  a 
hound  of  her  old  grace  and  a  flash  of  the  old  spirit, 
she  took  her  place  by  Barb,  and,  putting  her  am. 
round  her,  said,  proudly  : 

"  Woman,  I  shall  allow  no  abuse  of  this  girl  for 


50  BARRTS  CHOSEN  PATH. 

my  sake.  She  has  done  me  a  service  which  I  shall 
never  forget,  and  as  long  as  I  live  I  mean  to  be  her 
friend.  ISTow,  ma'am,  what  you  have  to  say,  say  to 
me!" 

This  address  seemed  to  take  the  old  woman's 
breath  away;  she  stood  for  a  full  minute  glaring 
speechlessly  at  the  intruder ;  then  she  bethought  her 
of  her  spectacles,  drew  them  from  their  worn  case, 
and  re-examined  Barry  from  top  to  toe.  At  last  she 
spoke  in  the  mildest,  blandest  accents,  a  propitiatory 
smile  hovering  about  her  odious  features,  and  a 
cringing  courtesy  prefacing  her  remarks : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss — miss,  ain't  it  ?  I  see 
no  marriage  ring.  I  wouldn't  have  spoke  so,  not  for 
the  world,  if  I  had  seen  you  clear  at  fust.  I  thought 
you  was  one  of  them  low  street  wagrants  that  Barb 
had  picked  up,  for  she's  always  a  poking  her  nose 
into  other  folk's  business,  whenever  their  luck's  down 
upon  'em,  'stead  of  cottoning  to  well-dressed,  well-to- 
do  folks  like  you,  my  dear,  good,  pretty  young  lady, 
with  a  face  as  sweet  as  a  daisy.  And  won't  you 
break  some  'arts  yet,  is  all  I  say  ! " 

"  Don't  listen  to  her ;  don't  listen  to  her,"  whis- 
pered Barb,  who  was  ghastly  pale. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  the  woman,  sharply. 

"  You're  very  civil,"  said  Barry,  somewhat  bewil- 
dered between  the  fervor  of  her  address  and  the 


BAERT8  CHOSEN  PATH.  51 

vehemence  of  Barb's  adjuration  ;  "  but  perhaps  your 
civility  won't  outlive  the  honest  truth.  Barb,  here,  is 
rich  to  what  I  am,  for  she  has  work  to  do  that  pays 
her,  while  I  have  neither  work  nor  one  cent  in  my 
pocket.  Now,  ma'am,  I'll  go;  I  have  no  idea  of 
sponging  on  you." 

The  old  wretch  drew  close  to  the  beautiful  girl  as 
these  words  poured  from  her,  and  with  a  grin  of  sur- 
passing oiliness  upon  her  evil  mask  of  a  face,  she 
answered,  sweetly : 

"  Dear  young  creetur,  you  mistakes  Nan  Devlin. 
There  ain't  a  more  f  eelin'  heart  in  Noo  York  than 
hers.  You're  welcome  to  your  bed  an'  board  here 
till  I  finds  ye  a  nice,  snug  home  I  knows  on " 

"Take  care!"  shrieked  the  little  ballet-dancer, 
pulling  Barry  violently  out  of  reach  of  Nan's  great 
purple  hand,  and  intercepting  her  own  tiny  figure. 
"  Take  care,  ye  wicked  woman  !  Say  one  word  to 
soil  this  innocent  lady's  ears  or  heart,  an' — an'  I'll 
run  away  from  ye  an'  let  ye  starve,  I  will !  " 

The  giantess  glared  down  upon  the  poor  little, 
panting,  trembling,  bright-eyed  coryphe'e,  and  a  de- 
moniac flash  broke  from  her  half-closed  lid?. 

"  It  ain't  worth  while  to  tackle  ye  now,  you  pre- 
cious limb,"  said  she,  actually  gnashing  her  teeth, 
"  cos  you  wouldn't  be  fit  fur  your  night's  work  ;  but 
ou'y  wait  till  you  come  home — on'y  wait,  I  say,  an' 


52  BARRTS  CHOSEN  PATH. 

I'll  sarvc  ye  out  handsome  for  this;  so's  you'll  dance 
for  a  fortnight  to  come  as  if  the  devil  switched  ye  up 
to  it !  Now  you  be  off,  an'  this  young  lady  and  me'll 
soon  come  to  terms." 

Barb,  pale  as  death,  pulled  Barry  with  her  to  the 
peg  where  she  had  hung  their  wraps. 

"Barry,"  whispered  she,  "ye  don't  know  what 
danger  I've  took  ye  into.  Forgive  me,  dear!  An' 
mind,  ye  must  stick  by  me  close  as  wax,  or— or  ye'd 
best  kill  yerself  to  oncet !  " 

"  Wha-at  1  Eh  ?  eh  ? "  cried  the  old  woman's  dis- 
cordant voice,  as  she  strode  between  them  and  the 
door  with  arms  akimbo,  and  a  ferocious  grin  upon 
her  swollen  lips.  "  Young  miss,  come  away  from 
that  viper;  she's  telling  ye  lies  !" 

Struck  to  the  heart  with  a  nameless  fear,  Barry 
gazed  from  one  to  the  other,  and  silently  took  down 
her  waterproof  and  hat  to  put  them  on. 

"  No,  no,  ye  don't  leave  this  to-night,  my  love," 
said  Xan,  advancing  upon  them.  "  I  has  views  for 
you  which  I  asks  your  company  for  to  hear,  an'  takes 
no  denial." 

Barb  sprang  forward — a  fine  bound  it  was — such 
as  only  the  flexible  limbs  of  a  practised  danseuse 
could  make,  and  landing  full  on  old  Nan's  capacious 
chest,  she  felled  her  to  the  floor. 

"  Run  now!"  screamed  she  to  Barry,  opening  the 
door. 


BARRTS  CHOSEN  PATH.  53 

Iland-in-hand  they  flew  into  the  black  and  loath- 
some passage,  and  down  the  treacherous  stairway, 
but  had  not  reached  the  next  landing  when  old  Nan's 
voice,  hoarse  with  rage,  was  heard  shouting: 

"  Tim !  Tim,  I  say  !  stop  them  gals !  Tim  Poi- 
son !  stop  them  gals  !  " 

Barb  drew  Barry  on  only  the  faster. 

"  If  he  tries  to  stop  us,  don't  give  in ! "  was  all  she 
said,  but  her  eyes  glinted  in  the  dark  like  live  coals. 

They  flew  down  another  flight,  but  now  the  coarse 
voice  of  a  man  yelled  a  response  to  old  Nan's  vocif- 
erations ;  doors  high  and  low  flew  open,  letting  out 
streams  of  sickly  light,  and  men  and  women  of  terri- 
ble aspect,  wickedness,  poverty  and  filth  striving  for 
the  mastery  in  their  appearance. 

"  Stop  them  gals !  "  rang  through  the  house,  and 
was  taken  up  by  a  babel  of  voices  ;  but  still  the  girls 
flew  down,  winged  with  fear,  and  pushing  their  way 
through  the  fast-filling  stairways  and  passages,  burst 
at  last  through  a  knot  of  idlers  arrested  on  the  pave- 
ment by  the  boisterous  sounds  in  the  old  tenement- 
house,  and  so  darting  across  the  street  and  mingling 
among  the  rough  passengers  on  the  opposite  pave- 
ment, they  escaped. 

Barb  drew  Barry  into  the  first  street,  which  seemed 
quite  dark  and  solitary  after  the  roar  and  glare  of 
the  avenue,  and  hurrying  her  along,  they  soon  left 


54:  BAERTS  CHOSEN  PATH. 

that  quarter  of  the  city  behind  them.  Then  they 
stopped  in  a  quiet  place,  and  Barb  began  to  fetch  her 
breath  and  to  explain  matters. 

"  Maybe  you  don't  understand  what  all  this  fluster 
was  about,  Miss  Barry,"  said  she,  looking  up  into  the 
face  of  the  beautiful  woman  with  sorrowful  eyes. 

Barry  returned  her  look,  horror  and  bewilderment 
in  her  glance. 

"  No,  you  don't ;  I  see  you  don't,  dear  soul,"  re- 
sumed Barb.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  didn't  either !  You 
needn't  shrink  away  from  me,  Miss  Barry,  though," 
she  added,  straightening  herself  proudly.  u  I'm  only 
a  baljet-dancer,  and  maybe  you  thinks  there's  noth- 
ing so  low  as  that ;  but  it's  miles  and  miles  above 
what  old  Nan  would  have  had  me  be  if  I  would, 
which  I  never  did,  miss,  God  he  knows,  nor  wouldn't 
'  if  she  had  beat  me  to  death  !  " 

Barry  drew  her  to  her  breast  with  a  sudden  revul- 
sion of  feeling. 

"  I  believe  you,  you  poor  dear  little  soul,"  said  she. 
"  You're  a  good  girl,  a  brave  girl !  But  what  did 
the  woman  want  with  me  ? " 

Barb  clung  to  her  with  trembling  hands. 

"  I  daren't  tell  you,"  whispered  she.  "  Don't  ask 
me  again.  Only  if  she  could  have  kept  you,  it  would 
have  been  no  sin  for  you  to  take  a  knife  off  the  table 
and  kill  yourself  with  it!" 


BARRY'S  CHOSEN  PATH.  55 

A  long  shudder  shook  Barry  Pomeroy  from  head 
to  foot,  for  a  moment  her  very  heart  stood  still. 

"  Oh,  mother !    oh,  Hugh  !  "  she  moaned  in  horror. 

"  Barry,"  said  Barb,  tenderly,  "  go  back  to  'em, 
do!  Twice  to-day  you've  been  saved  by  a  miracle; 
oh,  be  warned  in  time,  and  go  back  to  them  as  loves 
you  true  as  gold." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Barry,  faintly ;  "  let  me 
think  over  it  again." 

Barb  busied  herself  in  adjusting  Barry's  and  her 
own  disordered  dresses. 

"  You  can't  go  back  to  that  woman  after  this  ? " 
asked  Barry  by  and  by. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  must,"  replied  Barb.  "  I've  nowheres 
else  to  go ;  but  never  mind  me.  Have  you  made  up 
your  mind,  dear  ? " 

"  ISTo,"  said  Barry,  weeping.  "  My  heart  fails  me 
for  the  first  time." 

"  Be  quick  then,  deary  love !  "  said  Barb,  leading 
her  on  again.  "  We'll  soon  be  at  the  theatre  now, 
and  in  twenty  minutes  I  must  go  on.  Before  we 
get's  there,  I  want  to  have  your  consent  that  you'll 
go  back  to  'em  in  the  morning,  and  than  I'll  know 
what  I  must  do  for  you  to-night/' 

"  Let  me  think,"  said  Barry. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  while  the  angels  of 
Good  and  Evil  fought  in  the  young  girl's  breast  for 


56  BARRY'S  CHOSEN  PATH. 

mastery,  and  the  fagged  dancer  thought  dismally  of 
the  brutalities  in  store  for  her. 

When  they  came  to  the  back  street  and  the  stage 
entrance,  Barry  said,  tremulously: 

"  I  haven't  decided  yet ;  I  can't  decide.  He  broke 
my  heart.  Am  I  to  have  no  satisfaction  ? " 

Barb  took  her  hand  between  her  own  two  cold, 
slim  ones,  saying,  with  a  strange  rich  gush  of  music 
in  her  voice : 

<k  Dear  love,  ain't  we  always  a  breakin'  of  the 
Master's  heart,  and  does  He  ever  want  any  satisfac- 
tion except  to  forgive  us  ?  " 

At  this,  coming  from  the  lips  of  an  ignorant  city 
waif,'  the  carefully-trained  maiden  broke  down,  and 
wept  bitterly. 

"  Let  me  stay  with  you  a  little  while  longer,  Barb," 
sobbed  she.  "  You're  so  good,  that  maybe  I'll  do  as 
you  say." 

Barb  led  her  in,  explaining  to  the  porter  that  she 
was  a  friend  who  came  to  help  her  dress  in  a  hurry. 
Being  an  old  hand  in  the  business,  this  irregularity 
was  permitted  the  little  coryphee,  and  she  conducted 
Barry  through  intricate  and  winding  passages  to  a 
large  dressing-room,  where  a  crowd  of  young  women 
were  dressing  themselves  in  silk  tights,  short,  span- 
gled skirts,  etc.,  and  carrying  on  the  while  a  perfect 
babel  of  clatter,  some  of  which  made  the  pure-souled 


BARRY'S  CHOSEN  PATH.  57 

Barry's  cheeks  tingle  with  shame,  until  her  eyes 
rested  upon  the  white,  childlike  face  of  little  Barb, 
who  busily  went  on  with  her  toilet,  mindful  of  noth- 
ing else. 

"  It  rolls  off  her  like  rain  off  a  leaf,"  thought 
Barry.  "  What's  that  about  the  '  pure  in  spirit '  ? 
"I  wish  I  was  like  Barb  I  " 

In  a  few  moments  the  call  came  for  the  ballet- 
corps.  Barb  tripped,  in  her  silk  sandals  and  gauze 
petticoats,  to  her  friend's  side.  Not  a  poor  little 
haggard  drudge  now ;  no,  no ;  the  Lady  of  the  Air 
was  lovely  as  any  fairy  of  poet's  dream  ! 

How  richly  her  cheeks  glowed  ! 

How  gracefully  her  long  flossy  hair  waved  !  How 
Bylphine  was  her  figure — how  delicate  her  limbs  ! 

"Miss  Barry,  dear  love ! "  murmured  the  coryphee, 
leaning  on  her  glittering  wand,  while  the  playful 
elf-like  strains  of  the  fairy  dance  stole  in  from  the 
orchestra,  and  the  people  applauded  the  fairy  cavern 
at  the  rising  of  the  curtain,  "you've  no  right  to  be 
running  about  the  world  with  that  there  pretty  face 
of  yours,  an'  mark  my  words,  it'll  be  your  ruin  if  you 
do.  Now,  don't  stir  till  I  come  back." 

She  floated  away,  closing  the  door  behind  her. 

Barry  Potneroy  sat  thinking,  with  set  face  and 
troubled  heart. 

"What  a  struggle  was  there ! 
3* 


58  BARRT8  CHOSEN  PATH. 

A  thought  of  Harrison  Fairleigh,  and  hell  raged, 
all  its  demons  broken  loose!  Hatred,  vengeance, 
despair  1 

A  thought  of  her  old  mother,  saintly  in  mind  and 
life — her  venerable  face  a  benediction — the  clasp  of 
her  hand  a  caress — and  tender  love,  remorse,  peni- 
tence pressed  around  her  with  wooing  whispers ! 

The  door  opened — a  jaunty  face  peeped  in. 

"  Doves  all  flown,  by  Jove ! "  exclaimed  a  voice 
which  pierced  her  like  an  arrow.  She  turned  her 
back  to  the  door,  and  drew  her  thick  vail  closely. 

"  Bah !  the  old  duenna  is  on  duty,  too ;  no  use 
waiting  !  "  replied  another  voice.  "  Come  on,  Fair- 
leigh." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  the  dancers  trooped  in 
and  threw  themselves  panting  upon  the  chairs  and 
floor. 

"  Decided  yet,  dear?  "  whispered  the  Lady  of  the 
Air,  fanning  her  hot  face  with  her  shining  shield. 

"Yes!  "said  Barry,  looking  up  with  a  dreadful 
smile.  u  I  am  going  to  hunt  him  down  !  " 


CHAPTER  V. 

ANOTHER  MOTHEK-HEAET  TO   BE   CRUSHED. 

3* 

ARE  and  Barry  sat  together  in  the  window  of 
a  wide,  bright  room.  Two  rows  of  immacu- 
late narrow  white  beds  stretched  along  the 
snow-white  floor  to  the  distant  door ;  some  prettily 
framed  Scripture  texts  adorned  the  walls,  and  a  soft 
warm  atmosphere  cheated  the  occupants  into  a  mo- 
mentary forgetfulness  of  the  chilling  wind  which 
blew  against  the  frozen  windows,  and  of  the  first  fall 
of  the  December  snow  which  was  whitening  the  busy 
street  below. 

The  fugitive  and  her  friend  had  found  a  safe  asy- 
lum in  one  of  those  Homes  for  Friendless  Girls  which 
adorn  the  Christian  city  of  New  York  far  morethan 
do  the  noblest  palaces  of  Fifth  Avenue. 

On  that  night  when  Barry  Pomeroy  had  declared 
her  unalterable  resolve,  Barb,  very  sadly,  but  firmly, 
had  said : 

"  You're  in  a  bad  way,  Barry  Pomeroy,  an'  I  daren't 
desert  you — wherever  you  go,  I  go." 


CO  ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED. 

"I've  nowhere  to  go,"  Barry  bad  answered  in  a 
hard,  indifferent  way.  "  I  guess  I've  got  grit  enough 
to  fight  along  by  myself;  you  take  care  of  yourself; 
it  ain't  your  business  to  look  after  me  !  " 

"  Maybe  not,  Barry,  but  I  know  more  about  the 
town  than  you  do,  and  you  can't  make  me  leave  you 
if  I  won't — so  there's  an  end  on't." 

So  Barry,  thinking  of  other  things,  had  let  her 
have  her  way. 

Well,  how  had  they  fared,  these  straws  cast  into 
the  vortex  ? 

The  first  night  Barb  had  conducted  her  friend  to 
a  station,  and,  demanding  a  night's  lodging  by  right 
of  poverty  and  homelessness,  had  enjoyed  at  least  a 
shelter  among  the  vagrants  of  the  most  revolting 
character ;  yet  this  was  the  best  the  poor  little  dancer 
could  do  at  such  a  late  hour.  In  the  morning,  one 
of  the  constables  gave  them  the  address  of  the  Home 
referred  to,  and  there  they  had  been  taken  in  with 
Christian  charity,  and  made  welcome  until  they 
should  find  situations. 

Barb  could  easily  have  got  an  engagement  in 
another  theatre,  for  she  dared  not  return  to  the  Opera 
House  lest  old  Xan  should  trace  her  ;  but  the  matron 
advised  her  so  tenderly  and  faithfully  against  her  old 
profession,  encouraging  her  to  remain  in  the  Home 
and  learn  sewing  or  running  a  machine,  that  she 


ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED.  61 

stayed  cheerfully  with  Barry,  who  was  qualifying 
herself  as  fast  as  she  could  for  a  place  as  nursery- 
governess  or  lady's-maid. 

How  often  had  Barb  entreated  Barry  to  tell  her 
the  name  of  her  native  place,  thinking  with  simple 
wile  to  put  her  in  communication  with  her  mother, 
and  so  to  break  the  deadly  spell  which  bound  her  I 
But  Barry  kept  obstinate  silence  on  that  point,  and, 
worse  than  that,  refused  to  give  her  own  name  or 
history  to  the  matron,  so  intimidating  Barb  with  the 
threat  of  running  away  if  she  ever  betrayed  the  con- 
fidence she  had  reposed  in  her,  that  she  held  her 
peace  perforce,  fearing  to  consign  her  friend  to 
destruction  should  she  go  against  her. 

"  Mind,  Barb,"  Barry  had  said,  with  that  eerie  glint 
in  her  dark  eye,  "  my  name — till  I've  got  my  heart's 
desire — is  Marah  Leith.  I  used  to  read  in  my  Bible 
that  '  Marah1  meant  '  bitterness,'  and  oh,  it  suits  me 
right  well  now !  " 

As  they  talked  softly  by  the  window  that  morning, 
both  plainly,  but  pleasantly  dressed,  with  pure  white 
aprons  on,  and  hair  demurely  coiled  in  a  simple  knot 
behind,  the  matron  came  in,  her  gentle  face  wreathed 
with  a  smile  of  pleasure. 

"  Girls,"  said  she,  beaming  upon  them,  "  go  down 
to  the  parlor;  a  lady  is  there  who  wants  to  select, 
from  among  my  girls  here,  one  to  take  right  home 


62  ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED. 

with  her.  She's  a  dear  good  lady,  and  whoever  she 
chooses  will  be  a  happy  creature,  I  know." 

The  two  girls  went  down  stairs  hand-in-hand,  and 
entered  the  parlor,  where  they  found  three  or  four  of 
the  other  inmates  of  the  house  ;  and,  seated  by  her- 
self, with  pale  and  gentle  face  turned  attentively 
toward  them,  a  beautiful  aged  lady,  richly  dressed. 

"  These  are  all  I  have  at  your  command,"  said  the 
matron  closing  the  door.  Barb  and  Barry  glanced 
at  each  other  with  rising  color,  for  the  lady,  seeing 
them  enter  so  lovingly,  had  given  them  a  long,  wist- 
.  f  ul  look,  and  then  a  smile  of  surpassing  kindness. 

"  Oh !  "  sighed  Barb,  in  her  heart.  "  If  she'd  only 
let  me  be  her  servant !  " 

The  lady  spoke  in  a  gentle,  velvet  voice,  and  with 
a  high-bred  accent  which  carried  a  peculiar  charm 
with  it. 

"  My  girls,"  she  said,  "  God  has  been  laying  His 
hand  heavily  upon  me.  My  daughter,  whom  I  loved 
too  dearly,  is  dead.  In  my  sorrow,  God  has  put  into 
my  heart  to  take  another  child,  this  time  not  born  in 
luxury  and  bred  in  fashionable  ease,  but  snatched 
from  poverty  and  temptation.  I  want  a  daughter 
whom  I  can  love  and  cherish  for  my  dead  daughter's 
sake.  The  more  helpless,  friendless,  weak,  and  dis- 
couraged she  comes  to  me,  the  more  gladly  will  I 
open  my  doors  to  her.  Girls,  who  will  come  to  the 


ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED.  63 

aged  mother  who  mourns  her  lost  darling,  and  up- 
hold her  tottering  steps  to  the  grave  ? " 

These  few  simple,  but  heartfelt  words  seemed  to 
stir  the  little  assembly  like  the  breath  of  some  ma- 
gician. 

They  were  all  girls  gathered  in  from  the  streets — 
some  rough  and  ignorant,  some  positively  vicious — 
all  but  Barry;  and  yet,  while  they  wept  in  a  burst 
of  pity,  she  stood  like  a  stone,  white,  yet  perfectly 
calm.  For,  through  this  gentle  stranger,  did  not 
her  mother's  heart-broken  cry  come  up  to  her  ears  ? 

Oh,  Barry,  Barry !  listen  to  that  pleading  whisper 
in  your  breast — return — return  ! 

"  Lady,"  said  a  low,  tremulous  voice,  breaking 
the  sobbing  stillness,  "  do,  do  take  this  poor  dear ; 
she  ain't  fit  to  rough  it  among  the  bad  folks  here. 
Look  how  pretty  she  is  !•" 

It  was  Barb  who  spoke :  it  was  Barry  she  drew 
forward,  while  the  matron's  eyes  glistened  upon  her. 

The  lady  beckoned  both  the  girls  to  her  side,  and 
again  she  gazed  upon  them  earnestly. 

"  You  are  not  of  such  stuff  as  outcasts  are  usually 
made  of,"  said  she  to  Barry.  "  What  is  your 
history  ? " 

The  others  drew  to  the  further  end  of  the  room, 
leaving  the  three  apart. 

"It   is   a   bitter  story,   ma'am,"  answered  Barry, 


64:  ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED. 

stonily.  "  I'd  rather  not  tell  it.  There  was  nc 
shame  in  it,  either,  leastways  not  to  me ;  but  there 
was  cruel,  cruel  wrong  done  by  others ! " 

"  You  speak  bitter  as  gall,  my  girl,"  said  the  lady, 
slowly.  "  Have  you  left  your  home  in  revenge  for 
some  fancied  slight? " 

"  I  have  no  home  till  things  come  right,"  said 
Barry,  in  her  hardest  voice. 

The  lady  turned  her  heavenly  eyes — for  all  peace 
and  purity  dwelt  therein — from  the  beautiful  frown- 
ing face  of  Barry  to  the  meek,  emaciated  one  of 
Barb. 

"Little  girl,"  said  she,  tenderly,  "you  are  not  this 
poor  soul's  sister,  are  you  ? " 

"No,  indeed,  ma'am;  I'm  one  of  the  roughs — 
she's  most  a  lady." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  and  be  my  daugh- 
ter?" inquired  the  lady,  passing  her  soft  old  hand 
lightly  over  the  flaxen  curls  of  the  blushing  crea- 
ture. 

"Oh,  jest  don't  I?"  Barb  burst  forth  in  ecstasy. 
Then  she  checked  herself,  and  cast  a  glance  of  pite- 
ous entreaty  toward  Barry.  "  But  it  ain't  the  likes 
of  me  that  wants  such  a  angel  as  you  to  guide  'em 
back  to  good,"  she  added,  earnestly.  "  I'm  used  to 
going  round  on  the  loose  an'  takin'  good  care  of  my- 
self, but  she  ain't.  She's  iunerceut  as  a  sparrow, 


ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED.  C5 

ma'am,  an'  any  rogue  might  harm  her  for  all  the 
suspicion  she  has  of  their  wicked  ways.  Oh,  do 
take  her,  dear  lady  !  " 

"  Do  you  wish  to  come  ?  "  asked  the  lady,  turning 
from  Barb,  with  great  tears  in  her  eyes,  to  Barry. 

"  Yes,  I  wish  to  go,  but  Barb  is  a  far  better  girl 
than  I,  and  far  worthier  your  kindness,"  answered 
Barry,  in  a  low  voice. 

The  lady  covered  her  face  and  mused  deeply  for 
some  time  ;  then  she  beckoned  the  matron,  and  after 
conferring  with  her,  said : 

"  My  heart  goes  out  to  the  one  you  call  Barb, 
rough-spoken  and  untaught  as  she  is.  She  is  young 
to  have  fought  such  a  hard  fight.  Oh,  I  want  to 
have  her!  But  the  other,  Marah ;  I  don't  know 
what  to  think  about  her.  There  is  a  latent  power — 
I  might  almost  say  a  ferocity — under  her  rigid  self- 
possession  which  repulses  me.  She  is  most  in  need 
of  a  safe  home  though,  with  that  beautiful  face  and 
bitter  spirit  of  hers.  Alas !  my  duty  is  plain.  I 
choose  her  who  needs  me  most.  May  God  smile 
upon  us  both !  " 

The  matron  recalled  the  young  girls,  who  had 
stood  aside  during  this  conference,  and  leading  Barry 
forward,  presented  her  to  the  lady  with  a  few  sin- 
cere and  touching  words. 

"  I  choose    you,  Marah  Leith,"   said  the    venera- 


66  ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED. 

ble  lady,  solemnly,  "and  I  charge  you,  "by  your 
mother's  memory,  to  give  me  no  cause  to  rue  my 
choice." 

"  I  promise  to  devote  myself  to  you  as  long  as  you 
keep  me,"  said  Barry,  with  her  cold  gaze  on  the 
ground. 

******* 

The  next  evening,  as  Barb  sat  plying  her  little 
sewing  machine  among  some  dozen  other  workers, 
the  matron  came  in  with  a  quiet  sparkle  of  satisfac- 
tion in  her  kindly  eye. 

"  Barbara  Pomeroy,"  said  she — and  all  the  ma- 
chines stopped — "  your  friend,  Marah  Leith,  has  come 
back  to  see  you.  You  see  she  hasn't  forgotten  your 
kindness  to  her,  my  child,"  added  she,  as  the  eager 
Barb  hurried  out  with  her.  "  It's  pleasant  to  see 
gratitude,"  she  solilocprized,  "  and  to  know  there  is 
such  cause  for  it." 

Barb  flew  into  the  parlor,  and  found  herself  alone 
with  Barry. 

What  a  transformation  ! 

Iler  splendid  form  was  draped  in  rich  cloth  folds, 
which  did  its  massive  beauty  justice  at  last;  costly 
furs  shielded  her  throat,  her  wrists,  her  delicately- 
gloved  hands;  her  blue-black  hair  was  brushed  and 
coiled  by  artistic  fingers  under  her  heavily-plumed 
hat;  with  her  scarlet  cheeks,  glittering  eyes,  and 


ANOTHER  MOTHER-HEART  TO  BE  CRUSHED.  67 

white  teeth  flashing  between  her  parted  lips,  she  per 
sented  a  spectacle  of  glorious  beauty  ! 

She  stood  before  Barb  motionless,  gazing  at  her 
with  a  strange,  reckless  mirth  in  her  sparkling  eye, 
and  Barb,  standing  off  in  innocent  awe  and  venera- 
tion, sighed  out : 

"  Oh,  ain't  you  just  splendid  !  Oh !  deary  love, 
ain't  you  going  to  be  happy  !  " 

Barry's  features  contracted  in  a  sudden  fierce 
scowl. 

"  Happy  !  "  said  she,  between  her  grinding  teeth, 
f'  Scarcely !  Another  mother-heart  to  be  crushed  in 
my  path  to  vengeance.  Oh,  silly  little  Barb,  why 
didirt  you  go  there  yourself  ?  Why  didn't  you  save 
her — why  didn't  you  save  me  ?  " 

"  What's — what's  wrong  ?  "  gasped  Barb,  terrified 
by  her  manner. 

"  The  lady  wrho  has  adopted  me  for  her  daughter," 
said  Barry,  in  an  unnatural  voice,  so  stern,  so  fear- 
fully pitiless,  that  Barb  shrank  back  in  utter  horror, 
"  is  Harrison  Fairleigfi's  mother  !  " 


CHAPTER  YI. 

FAIK  FACE,  FOUL  HEAKT. 

YEAR  has  passed  since  Barbara  Pomeroy 
entered  the  home  of  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  under 
the  false  name  of  Marah  Leith,  to  be  edu- 
cated as  her  own  daughter  had  been.  She  has  im- 
proved as  only  one  could  whose  purpose  is  to  be 
gained  bv  improvement ;  she  uses  no  longer  the 
homely  colloquialisms  which  stamped  her  as  plebeian ; 
she  has  cultured  her  tones  to  imitate  the  sweet  mel- 
ody of  the  ladies-born  who  surround  her ;  she  has 
drunk  in  all  knowledge,  all  learning,  all  accomplish- 
ments with  a  never-to-be-satiated  thirst — in  one  year 
the  mother  who  bore  her  would  scarcely  recognize  iu 
this  well-trained  city  beauty  the  Barry  who  carried 
the  milking-pails  and  sang  in  the  vine-wreathed 
kitchen. 

In  all  this  time  she  has  never  once  seen  Harrison 
Fairleigh.  Indeed,  she  never  entered  his  mother's 
house  until  he  had  left  it  for  the  Eastern  Hemis- 
phere, languidly  hoping  to  enliven  his  idleness  by  the 


FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART.  69 

new  scenes  of  European  dissipation  and  pleasure. 
But  the  mother  lias  kept  her  well-informed  of  all  his 
movements,  for  she  loves  him  as  only  good  mothers 
can  love  wayward  sons,  gifting  him  with  many  a 
noble  quality  which  dwells  but  in  her  own  pure 
breast,  and  incapable  of  comprehending  in  her  inno- 
cence the  actual  deformity  of  his  heart  and  mind. 
She  has  written  to  him,  too,  of  her  new  daughter 
such  generous  and  glowing  praises  that,  could  bitter 
Marah  have  read  them,  her  proud  lip  would  have 
curled  with  yet  fiercer  triumph,  and  she  would  have 
turned  her  to  her  chosen  path  with  yet  sterner  purpose. 

Harrison  has  been  lazily  interested  in  Marah 
Leith  ;  has  even  asked  his  mother  for  her  picture,  but 
this  Marah  has  sedulously  guarded  against,  for  she 
will  not  suffer  herself  to  be  photographed. 

Truth  to  say,  the  sweet  old  Christian  lady  scarcely 
understands  the  daughter  whom  she  has  taken  f <  r 
her  dead  Maud's  sake.  She  admires  her  noble 
beauty,  her  docility,  and  her  insatiable  craving  after 
knowledge,  but  she  can  never  get  her  heart  to  heart 
with  her  ;  whenever  she  would  draw  her  close,  long- 
ing to  give  and  receive  _some  token  of  affection,  an 
invisible  wall  rises  up  between  them,  high  as  heaven, 
and  they  look  through  it  at  each  other,  divided  as  by 
the  bars  of  a  castle. 

Her  past  history  Marah  Leith  has  locked  away  iu 


70  FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART. 

her  own  breast ;  Mrs.  Fairleigh  scarce  ever  expects  to 
Lear  it  now,  and  yet  she  believes  \\Q\-protegee  as  in- 
nocent of  guilt  or  shame  as  if  she  knew  all.  Erring 
she  knows  she  is,  and  it  is  her  constant  endeavor  to 
ponr  upon  her  darkened  soul  light  from  that  Lamp 
which  leads  the  most  erring  back  to  the  fold. 

Barry  has  not  yet  so  deteriorated  in  heart  that  she 
can  live  this  easv,  luxurious  life  without  satisfying 
herself  how  her  poor  old  mother  is  bearing  her  sadly 
clouded  one.  She  has  not  dared  to  trust  herself  to 
write  to  her,  nor  to  expose  herself  to  the  pain  of 
receiving  letters  in  return,  filled  with  vain  prayers 
and  questions,  and  yet  she  knows  that  her  mother  is 
comparatively  well,  and  looking  day  by  day  with  an 
exhaustless  hope  for  Barry  to  come  back.  Money  can 
do  anything  ;  Barry  has  plenty  of  it  now,  and  she  has 
easily  found  an  unsuspicious  messenger  to  send  on 
some  ostensible  mission  to  Thunder  Peak,  and  to 
bring  her  back  the  news  she  craves  to  hear. 

Meantime,  patient  little  Barb's  fortunes  have  also 
improved.  Partly  through  the  bounty  of  the  matron's 
friends,  partly  by  Mrs.  Fairleigh's  aid,  she  has  by  this 
time  a  business  of  her  own,  where,  in  a  pleasant,  quiet 
street,  not  far  beyond  the  radius  of  fashionable  custom, 
she  runs  a  machine,  assisted  by  two  smart  apprentices, 
all  day  long,  diligently  improving  her  mind  in  the 
evenings  at  a  night-school. 


FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART.  71 

She  and  Barry  see  each  other  frequently ;  indeed, 
she  is  the  only  soul  on  earth  \vlio  knows  the  workings 
of  her  friend's  mind  ;  and  if  warnings  can  save  her, 
of  Barry  there  is  no  fear. 

"We  come  now  to  the  night  when,  tired  of  his  gay 
wanderings,  Harrison  Fairleigh  is  expected  to  arrive 
home. 

Barry  stands  at  the  window  of  her  own  room ;  the 
snow  is  falling  softly,  softly  outside,  like  silent  bless- 
ings upon  that  sacred  home  ;  the  street-lamps  burn 
with  a  blur  about  them,  and  every  passer-by  seems 
robed  with  ermine. 

Is  this  the  calico-clad  Hebe  who  stood  on  the  crazy 
bridge  under  the  Thunder  Peak,  confessing  her  love 
to  Harrison  Fairleigh,  this  splendid  empress  of  beauty, 
with  snow-white,  massive  shoulders  gleaming  through 
priceless  lace;  magnificent  bare  arms,  adorned  with 
rare  gems  ;  statuesque  figure,  enrobed  with  sweeping 
black  velvet ;  dusky  tresses  massed  in  a  royal  coronet 
upon  her  proud  head,  with  one  burning  geranium, 
above  her  small  white  ear  ? 

Is  this  the  arch,  passionate,  innocent  face  that 
blushed  at  his  praises — this  icy,  pure,  stately  coun- 
tenance, with  the  curl  of  scorn  upon  its  rich  red  lips, 
and  the  glimmer  of  wild  cruelty  in  its  glorious 
eye? 

A  carriage  rolled  to  the  door  and  stopped.     Trunks 


72  FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART. 

loaded  the  box;  a  traveller,  wrapped  in  a  splendid 
cloak  of  llussian  sables,  descended. 

Jinny  dropped  the  curtain  with  a  slow,  gasping 
sigh. 

"  lie  has  come,"  she  muttered.  "  Let  me  play  my 
part  now,  bravely,  recklessly." 

She  stood  a  few  moments  before  the  mirror,  ex- 
amining herself  with  an  intense  scrutiny  which  left 
not  the  smallest  flaw  nnscanned,  instantly  to  be  set 
right  with  impatient  hand ;  then  she  threw  herself 
into  a  large  satin  easy-chair  before  the  slumbering  fire, 
and  with  her  teeth  set,  and  her  hands  pressed  upon 
her  bounding  heart,  she  waited  until  at  length  a 
servant  tapped  at  her  door,  with  the  message  that 
Mrs.  Fairleigh  desired  her  to  descend. 

She  swept  down  the  broad,  velvet-covered  steps ; 
bronze  nymphs,  filling  niches  in  the  stairway,  shed 
soft,  lustrous  beams  upon  her  from  their  silver  lamps  ; 
snowy  Yenuses  and  Junos  looked  down  upon  her,  not 
half  so  beautiful  as  she,  from  their  carved  pedestals 
in  the  tesselated  hall ;  a  footman  flung  wide  the 
noiseless  door,  and  in  she  passed. 

Three  people  occupied  the  drawing-room. 

Mrs.  Fairleigh,  in  her  dead-black  silken  train,  and 
crape  cap,  pure  as  the  driven  snow,  resting  on  her 
silver-bright  hair,  sat  on  a  crimson  sofa  ;  at  her  side, 
with  her  hands  in  his  and  his  bold  bright  eyes  dwell- 


FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART.  73 

ing  fondly  and  proudly  upon  her,  sat  Harrison  Fair- 
leigh  ;  and,  standing  apart  by  the  exquisitely  designed 
mantelpiece,  with  an  admiring  gaze  fastened  upon 
the  other  two,  a  gentleman,  tall,  dark,  and  young, 
listened  silently  to  their  rapid  and  eager  conversa- 
tion. 

Upon  these  three  came  Barry,  with  the  step  of  an 
empress. 

With  one  accord  they  looked  at  her ;  with  one  ac- 
cord they  fell  into  breathless  silence. 

Mrs.  Fairleigh,  just  about  to  greet  her  with  a  loving 
word,  stopped,  awe-struck  by  the  wonderful  diablerie 
of  her  rare  beauty  ;  the  stranger  could  but  stare  in 
bewildered  surprise ;  and  Harrison  ?  A  glare  of 
astonishment,  of  consternation  broke  from  his  arrested 
eye ;  then  the  quick  blood  surged  to  his  bronzed  face 
like  a  crimson  mask,  distorting  and  transforming  the 
elegant  languor  of  his  well-trained  features ;  then  he 
grew  white  to  ghastliness,  and  a  convulsive  shiver  ran 
through  him. 

Sideways  he  glanced  at  his  mother  and  the  stranger; 
they  were  still  intent  upon  the  marvellous  vision 
which  had  made  him  quail. 

He  glanced  back  at  her  ;  he  met  her  great,  gloomy 
eyes ;  fixed  in  a  sort  of  royal  scorn  and  pity  upon 
him. 

Harrison  collected  his  thoughts. 


74:  FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART. 

He  passed  his  delicate  hand  across  his  damp  brow, 
and  said,  with  a  smile : 

"  This,  I  suppose,  is  Miss  Leith,  of  whom  I  have 
heard  so  much  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  rising  as  if  some 
evil  spell  was  broken.  "  Marah,  this  is  my  son — jour 
brother." 

Marah  put  her  soft  hand  into  his,  and  smiling  into 
his  eyes,  said  : 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  knew  you  already,  Mr.  Fairleigh ; 
you  are,  I  know,  worthy  of  all  the  sisterly  affection  1 
can  bestow." 

Slight  as  the  emphasis  was,  it  made  him  wince  like 
a  pin's  prick. 

"  And  I  am  sure,"  replied  he,  "  I  shall  find  you  all 
my  dear  mother  believes  you  to  be." 

It  was  her  turn  to  wince,  but  if  she  did,  she  hid  it 
with  a  deep  bow,  the  stately  grace  of  which  might 
have  been  copied  by  any  tragedienne  on  the  boards. 

"Allow  me  to  present  my  friend  Mr.  Koscoe,  an 
Englishman  whom  I  met  in  Paris,"  continued  Har- 
rison, with  a  careless  wave  of  the  hand  ;  and  having 
thus  disposed  of  his  adopted  sister,  he  turned  again 
to  Mrs.  Fairleigh. 

Barry  entered  into  conversation  with  Mr.  Roscoe, 
easily,  gracefully. 

Had  she  not  made  golden  use  of  every  moment 


FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART.  75 

since  she  had  entered  these  walls  to  garner  in  her 
mind  all  information,  to  teach  herself  to  understand 
every  classical,  scientific,  and  erudite  allusion  in 
which  elegant  conversationalists  might  indulge  ? 

Mr.  Roscoe,  accustomed  to  the  less  ready  and  more 
reticent  English  lady,  was  enchanted.  From  time  to 
time  he  cast  a  glance  toward  Harrison  Fairleigh,  as 
if  inviting  his  admiration  also. 

Harrison  was  absorbed  in  some  recital  which  his 
mother  was  making.  He  neither  noticed  his  friend 
nor  his  adopted  sister. 

Barry  knew  what  that  recital  was,  and  her  burning 
heart  writhed  in  its  chosen  flame. 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  was  telling  Harrison  where  she  had 
found  this  lovely  girl,  Marah ;  and  Barry  was  waiting 
for  the  moment  when  he  would  turn  with  angry  dis- 
dain to  her,  crying : 

"Barbara  Pomeroy,  what  does  this  imposture 
mean  ?  Why  are  you  here  under  a  false  name  ? " 

She  was  waiting,  with  pulses  all  throbbing,  with 
heart  on  fire  to  avenge  its  wrongs,  with  this  answer 
trembling  upon  her  lips  : 

"  You  stole  my  love,  intending  to  trample'  it,  dis- 
honored, in  the  dust.  Through  you  my  mother's 
heart  is  broken ;  and  now  through  me  your  mother's 
heart  shall  break,  as  I  denounce  her  son,  villain  and 
roue!" 


Y6  FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART. 

While  these  terrible  thoughts  occupied  her  mind, 
her  rich,  ripe  lips  were  wreathed  in  smiles,  and  her 
discourse  was  of  themes  a  duchess  might  choose  for 
graceful  discussion. 

Suddenly  she  caught  the  eyes  of  mother  and  son 
fixed  upon  her — they  were  listening,  Mrs.  Fairleigh 
with  a  proud  satisfaction,  Harrison  with  an  astonished 
and  uneasy  air. 

Barry  thought : 

"  He  shrinks,  coward-like,  from  exposing  me,  fear- 
ful of  reprisals.  Come,  I  must  force  him  to  speak." 

She  turned  her  splendid  face,  devil-possessed,  full 
toward  her  benefactress  and  her  son. 

"  You  have  been  telling  Mr.  Fairleigh  my  story, 
have  you?"  said  she,  sil ver- voiced ;  "confess  now, 
Mr.  Fairleigh,  are  you  not  aristocratically  shocked  to 
find  such  as  I  installed  in  your  home  ?  " 

Harrison  glared  at  her  in  a  sort  of  startled  admira- 
tion. 

"  You  are  certainly  a  singular  production  for  ple- 
beian soil  to  have  the  honor  of  growing,"  answered 
he,  rising  and  sauntering  over  to  her.  "  Roscoe,  will 
you  give  my  mother  a  resume  of  our  travels,  while  I 
devote  myself  to  my  new  sister?  Thanks.  .Now, 
Miss  Marah,  if  you  will  bestow  your  company  upon 
such  an  uninteresting  personage  as  myself,  I  should 
like  to  see  what  strange  and  foreign  flowers  my 


FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART.  77 

mother  has  been  adding  to  her  conservatory.  Who 
knows?  she  may  have  been  deceived  by  some  poison- 
ous weed"  he  added,  significantly. 

For  the  moment  she  sat  speechless,  her  busy  mind 
running  over  the  probabilities  of  such  an  interview. 
Did  she  comprehend  the  wild  bound  of  her  heart  at 
the  thought  of  once  again  standing  face  to  face  with 
this  man,  alone?  No! 

"  lie  hopes  to  induce  my  silence  by  some  of  his 
old  flatteries,"  she  mused.  "  Let  him  try :  he  shall 
find  the  lowly  maid  as  bent  upon  avenging  his  insult 
as  any  princess  born !  " 

She  put  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and,  smiling 
strangely,  led  him  from  the  drawing-room,  down- 
stairs, through  the  marble  halls,  and  so  into  the  con- 
servatory, dimly  lit  to-night,  full  of  monster  shadows 
thrown  from  giant  plants,  and  odorous  with  the 
breath  of  invisible  blossoms. 

Yes,  these  two  were  alone  once  more  ! 

And  not  more  dissimilar  were  the  rickety  old 
bridge  spanning  the  opalescent  stream,  with  the 
giant  peak  behind  and  the  burning  sun  overhead,  and 
this  hushed,  fragrant,  dusky  home  of  the  flowers, 
than  were  the  Barry  of  the  bridge  and  the  Barry  of 
the  conservatory. 

The  door  was  closed,  the  velvet  curtain  dropped 
over  it ;  only  the  crescent  of  taper  lights  above  them 


75  FAIR  FACE,  FOUL  HEART. 

and  the  great  fiery-throated  passion-flowers  beside 
thein  saw  and  heard. 

"  Barbara  Pomeroy !  "  whispered  Harrison. 

"  Yes,  Barbara  Pomeroy !  "  answered  she,  calmly. 

A  deep  breath  escaped  him  ;  he  leaned  somewhat 
heavily  against  the  back  of  the  rustic  seat  near,  and 
looked  at  her  in  growing  astonishment  and  uneasi- 
ness. 

"  Have — have  you  told  my  mother  that  you  and  I 
were  old  friends  ?  "  stammered  lie  at  last,  awkwardly 
enough. 

"  I  have  not,"  smiled  Barry,  with  cold  amusement. 

"  Then  why  are  you  here  ?  "  said  he,  flushing  sud- 
denly. "Did  you  expect  me  to  come  back  and  fall 
in  love  with  you  again  ?  " 

Barry  gave  him  one  look — a  flash  of  unspeakable 
scorn. 

"  I  expected  you  to  come  back,"  said  she. 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Harrison,  flushing 
now  with  mortification.  "  What  madness  could  have 
possessed  you  to  come  to  my  mother's  house  under 
a  false  name  ?  " 

"  Cast  me  out  now  if  you  wish  to  do  so,  you  have 
the  power,"  said  she.  "What  better  could  be  ex- 
pected from  a  girl  who  was  considered  fit  only  to  be 
a  rich  man's  toy  ?  " 

"  You  mean  that  if  I  speak  you'll  tell  my  mother 


FAIR  FACE,   FOUL  HEART.  79 

the  facts  of  the  case  ?  "  inquired  he,  more  and  more 
thunderstruck. 

This  was  the  moment  for  which  she  had  waited. 
Why  then  did  she  not  flash  forth  her  well-conned 
answer  and  listen  to  his  entreaties  to  spare  his  mother 
with  pitiless  indifference  ?  This  was  her  moment  for 
revenge.  Why  then  did  she  pause,  her  flickering  eyes 
passing  slowly  over  him,  and  the  rich  blood  receding 
from  her  cheek  and  lips  ?  Now,  had  she  stopped  to 
analyze  her  emotions  she  might  have  learned  that  the 
foul  flame  of  revenge  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  com- 
suming  her  maiden  love  for  this  man — she  might  have 
learned,  and  stayed  her  foot  on  the  brink  of  a 
chasm. 

"  This  would  be  but  a  poor  revenge,"  thought 
Barry,  hurried  on  by  her  passion.  "  I  would  only 
have  crushed  his  mother  with  the  knowedge  of  her 
idol's  villainy,  while  he  would  escape  scot-free,  for  it 
would  be  no  pang  to  him  to  lose  me ;  no  !  this  shall 
not  satisfy  me ;  I  must  teach  him  to  suffer  before  I 
strike." 

"Harrison,"  said  she  in  a  soft  and  altered  tone, 
"  if  you  have  the  heart  to  thrust  me  forth,  do  so ;  I 
shall  not  say  a  word  in  my  own  defence.  I  fled  from 
home  because  I  dared  not  marry  a  good  man  with  the 
stain  of  your  proffered  love  fresh  upon  me  ;  I  would 
have  died  at  home  of  grief  and  shame.  I  preferred 


80  FAIR  PACE,  FOUL  HEART. 

to  die  elsewhere,  that  your  name  might  never  be 
coupled  with  my  sufferings." 

Harrison  shifted  his  position  again  and  again,  as  if 
her  words  were  stings,  and  she,  observing  her  power, 
continued  with  yet  more  luring  deceit : 

"  Was  it  my  fault  that  you  had  stolen  my  love  from 
the  man  whom  I  was  contented  enough  to  marry  ? 
Was  it  my  fault  that  when  I  learned  your  purpose  my 
heart  broke,  and  I  wished  only  for  a  place  to  hide 
myself  ?  I  came  to  New  York  and  was  chosen  with- 
out any  agency  on  my  part  by  your  mother,  whose 
very  name  I  did  not  know  until  I  was  fairly  installed 
in  her  house.  As  for  my  false  name,  I  assumed  it 
only  to  escape  the  pursuit  of  my  friends." 

"But  when  you  knew  all,"  said  Harrison,  "why 
did  you  remain  \  You  must  have  known  that,  sooner 
or  later,  I  would  come  home,  and  then  what  did  you 
expect  ? " 

"  I  expect  to  be  turned  adrift,"  answered  she,  giving 
him  one  of  her  old-time  glances,  and  noting  with  exul- 
tation that  she  had  the  power  to  move  him  as  of  old. 

"  And  you  were  going  to  submit  without  a  word 
in  your  own  defence  ? "  asked  he. 

"  Without  a  word,"  said  she.  "  Harrison  Fairleigh 
was  sent  into  my  life  to  be  its  blight  and  curse,  and 
sooner  or  later  he  will  be  the  cause  of  my  death ;  it 
matters  little  when." 


FAIR  FACE,  FOUL  HEART.  81 

Harrison  approached  her  with  impulsive  hands 
outstretched. 

"  My  poor  girl,"  said  he,  "  I  have  injured  you,  but 
I  shall  injure  you  no  more  ;  forgive  me  for  the  past, 
and  let  us  be  friends  for  the  future. 

She  laid  her  hands  in  his  ;  she  called  a  dewy  moist- 
ure to  her  triumphant  glittering  eyes,  and  a  gentle 
humility  to  her  too-smiling  lips. 

"  You  will  not  betray  me  to  your  mother  \  "  she 
asked. 

"  No,  no  !     Dear  Barry !     Poor  Barry  !  " 

"  You  will  not  send  word  to  mother  or  Hugh  where 
I  am  ? " 

"  Never,  my  poor  wronged  darling  !  " 

Imperceptibly  he  was  drawing  her  closer,  ardently 
he  was  bending  over  her,  his  eager  breath  already  on 
her  lips.  Oh,  for  one  kiss  of  reconciliation  ! 

Her  wild  heart  rose  to  meet  his,  a  splendid  blush 
suffused  her  charming  face,  she  was  yielding — yield- 
ing, when  the  handle  of  the  conservatory  door  turned, 
and  the  voices  of  Mrs.  Fairleigh  and  Mr.  Roscoe  were 
heard.  ' 

She  tore  herself  from  his  detaining  clasp  with  a 
choking  gasp: 

"  No,  no,  Harrison  !  "  said  she,  in  thrilling  agita- 
tion. "  Never  that  again,  or  you  would  madden  me 

indeed  !     Yet,  let  us  be  friends !  " 
4* 


82  FAIR  FACE,  FOUL  HEART. 

"  Yes,  Barry,  yes ! "  muttered  Harrison,  crushing 
her  hand  in  his. 

Next  moment  the  venerable  old  lady  stepped  down 
the  marble  steps,  assisted  by  the  handsome  English- 


CHAPTER  YII. 

WOMAN'S  LOVE  VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION. 

>  . 

is  perhaps  a  week  afterward,  and  on   a 

bright  winter  afternoon,  Barry  is  seated  with 
her  friend  Barb  in  the  beautiful  room  which 
has  been  assigned  her  as  her  boudoir. 

If  Barry  has  improved  so  has  Barb.  She  is  fair 
and  meek  as  the  Grecian  Slave,  to  which  she  bears  no 
small  resemblance.  Her  misty  bine  eyes  are  inno- 
cent as  ever,  her  smile  as  tender,  and  her  speech  as 
simple ;  but  she  is  no  longer  rough,  ragged,  or  for- 
lorn ;  she  is  as  comely  as  a  sweet  wild  rose,  and  just 
as  single-hearted. 

In  her  neatly-fitting  winter  dress,  adorned  with  a 
simple  knot  of  azure  at  the  throat,  she  presents  by  no 
means  an  incongruous  appearance  in  that  dainty 
chamber,  even  though  her  friend's  robes  are  of  the 
richest  purple  velvet,  and  her  jewelry  worth  a  year's 
income  of  the  busy  little  needlewoman. 

At  present  a  perfect  aurora  of  smiles  are  chasing 
each  other  over  her  attentive  face,  while  Barry,  with 


84     WOMAN1  S  LOVE   VERSUS  MAJFS  PASSION. 

the  soft  lustre  restored  to  her  eyes,  and  womanly 
blushes  on  her  cheeks,  speaks  softly  and  tenderly  of 
— Harrison  Fairleigh ! 

"  He  is  sorry,  very  sorry,  indeed,  for  what  he  did," 
she  is  saying.  "He  could  not  treat  me  with  more 
respect  if  I  was  the  greatest  lady  in  the  land.  lie 
is  kind,  too ;  oh,  so  kind  !  He  could  not  give  me  so 
much  pleasure  if  he  did  not  love  me,  could  he, 
Barb?" 

"  No,  of  course  he  couldn't,  dear,"  cried  innocent 
Barb,  surveying  Barry  with  beaming  admiration. 
"How  could  he  help  loving  you,  now  that  you  are  a 
lady  in  his  own  station,  respected  and  loved  by  his 
mother  ?  Oh,  I  hoped  it  would  turn  this  way  all  the 
time,  Barry !  I  knew  it  would !  He'll  ask  you  to 
marry  him  in  right-down  earnest  now ;  and  won't 
you — won't  you  be  happy  !  " 

"  Oh,  hush ! "  whispered  Barry,  trembling  with 
soft  rapture.  "  Perhaps  he  will ;  but,  oh !  perhaps 
he  won't — and  then " 

"  Nonsense  ! "  flouted  Barb.  "  Of  course  he  will, 
if  he  has  really  repented  of  the  wrong  he  sought  to 
do  you.  Now,  Barry,  dear  Barry,  do  write  your 
mother,"  added  Barb,  timidly,  for  this  was  a  forbid- 
den subject. 

Large  tears  gushed  from  Barry's  eyes,  a  tender 
smile  quivered  on  her  lips. 


WOMAN'S  LOVE  VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION.    85 

"  Dear  mother  !  "  breathed  she.  "  Yes,  I'll  write 
to  her  the  very  hour  I've  promised  to  be  Harrison's 
wife.  I'll  set  her  poor  heart  at  rest  at  last — oh,  I've 
been  a  bad  daughter — I  don't  deserve  God's  blessing 
now !  Hugh  Wayne,  too ;  good,  constant  Hugh, 
he'll  be  glad  to  hear  that  his  cruel  bride-elect  is  not 
dead  or  gone  to  destruction.  He  was  always  so  un- 
selfish— always  so  unselfish.  The  night  I  ran  away 
he  offered  to  give  me  up  if  it  would  make  me  happier, 
and  I  didn't  dare  to  tell  him  that  he  must,  Barb,  dear. 
I  don't  deserve  this  happiness,  I  don't,  indeed." 

"But  you're  grateful  for  it,  aren't  you?"  said 
Barb,  wistfully.  "  And  even  if  it  didn't  come,  you'd 
never  be  as  hard  and  vindictive  as  you  were,  would 
you?" 

"  Even  if  it  didn't  come !  "  echoed  Barry,  in  a  faint, 
low  voice.  "  Oh,  don't  say  that,  my  dear !  It  must 
come,  for  if  it  doesn't  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  bear  it.  If 
he  deceives  me  now  it  would  be  worse  than  the  first 
time — far  worse  ;  for  he  has  told  me  over  and  over 
again  that  I  was  the  one  woman  in  the  world  for  him, 
that  I  was  formed  to  make  him  angel  or  devil,  and 
that  we  must  never  part.  No,  he  dares  not  deceive 
me  a  second  time.  Oh,  no  !  oh,  no ! " 

She  laughed  a  little  wildly,  then  putting  a  check 
on  herself,  took  Barb  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  her  in 
a  burst  of  proud  humility. 


86     WOMAN'S  LOVE   VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION. 

"  You  are  so  much  better  and  nobler  than  I,  my 
darling  girl,"  said  she,  "  that  you  can't  begin  to  im- 
agine the  terrible  thoughts  that  sometimes  crowd  into 
my  mind  like  imps  from  Satan.  How  can  you  love 
me  so  much,  you  pure  child  ? " 

Barb  was  about  to  answer,  when  a  tap  at  the  door 
interrupted  her. 

"  Ah !  he  is  here,"  said  Barry,  turning  from  her 
friend  with  radiant  face.  "  This  afternoon  will  de- 
cide all ;  I  know  it  will.  I  feel  a  strange,  mystic 
excitation  at  my  heart  here  that  never  carne  to  me 
before.  Kiss  me,  Barb — kiss  me,  dear !  There, 
thank  you.  If  I  return  a  happy  woman,  I  vow  to 
live  a  good  one ;  but,  if  not — if  not — O  God  !  have 
mercy  upon  me  ! " 

The  last  shuddering  sigh  was  still  on  her  lips  when 
Mrs.  Fairleigh  entered. 

Harrison  Fairleigh  being  a  gentleman  of  indepen- 
dent means,  chose  rather  to  live  in  a  fashionable  hotel 
than  in  his  mother's  house  ;  but  he  and  his  friend 
Roscoe,  who  had  put  up  at  the  Fiftli  Avenue  Hotel, 
spent  many  hours  each  day  walking,  driving,  or  chat- 
ting by  the  glowing  hearth  with  Mrs.  Fairleigh  and 
her  adopted  daughter.  And  there  had  been  other 
interviews,  not  so  public,  when  Harrison  and  Masali 
lingered  together  in  the  library,  or  walked  by  them- 
selves in  some  quiet  up-towii  quarter,  when  words 


WOMAN'S  LOVE   VERSUS  MAWS  PASSION.     87 

were  spoken  and  looks  were  exchanged  that  surely 
were  sacred  to  the  expression  of  but  one  passion  on 
earth. 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  had  not  been  unobservant,  and  it 
was  a  part  of  Barry's  boundless  gratification  that  she 
had  looked  on  with  evident  pleasure,  being  just 
unworldly  enough  to  prefer  for  her  son  one  whom  she 
believed  would  make  him  a  good  wife,  to  the  most 
illustrious  belle  whom  fashionable  society  could 
offer. 

Harrison  had  invited  Barry  out  driving  in  his  ele- 
gant new  equipage,  and  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  hearing,  had 
given  her  consent  to  the  arrangement  with  a  smile  of 
peculiar  approbation. 

"  Are  you  ready,  dear  ?  "  said  she,  scanning  Barry's 
well-chosen  toilet  with  careful  eye.  "  Harrison  is  to 
drive  you  himself,  and  he  and  his  horses  are  impatient 
to  be  off." 

"  Yes,  yes,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Fairleigh.  Help  me, 
Barb,"  murmured  Barry,  in  a  soft  nutter ;  and  Mrs. 
Fairleigh,  taking  a  seat  by  the  window,  where  she 
could  command  a  view  of  the  departure,  watched  with 
radiant  interest  the  sweet,  fair-haired  girl  as,  with 
skilful  fingers,  she  threw  round  the  shoulders  of  her 
more  beauteous  friend  her  purple  velvet  carriage- 
cloak,  lined  and  trimmed  with  ermine,  and  placed 
on  her  glossy  black  hair  her  ermine  trimmed  hat. 


88      WOMAN* 8  LOVE  VERSUS  MAWS  PASSION. 

A  few  moments  longer,  and  Harrison's  mother  and 
Barry's  friend  watched  from  the  same  window  the 
regal  beauty  step  into  Harrison's  glittering  carriage, 
her  cheeks  blushing  with  richer  bloom,  and  her  soft 
smile  answering  his  eager  greeting. 

Then  they  dashed  off,  and  the  rich  lady  drew  the 
little  sewing-girl  close  to  her  side,  and  began  to  chat 
with  her  as  she  loved  to  do :  for  when  these  two  talked 
together,  they  spoke  on  a  theme  which  placed  them 
on  the  same  level,  daughters  of  the  same  Prince,  as- 
pirants for  the  same  crown. 

As  Harrison  and  Barry  drove  out  to  Central  Park 
to  join  the  gay  stream  of  equipages  there,  a  slight 
constraint  seemed  slowly  to  gather  like  a  cloud  over 
his  gay  spirits. 

Barry  noted,  and  her  heart  fluttered  with  rising 
excitement.  She  took  refuge  in  her  most  brilliant 
mood  to  hide  her  breathless  anticipation  of  what  was 
coming. 

Never  in  his  life  had  Harrison  sat  beside  a  more 
fascinating  woman.  The  cloud  darkened  on  his  brow ; 
he  glanced  at  her  once  or  twice  strangely,  then  lashed 
his  horses  into  flying  speed,  only  to  rein  them  up 
again  with  savage  strength. 

They  joined  the  fur-filled  turnouts  of  the  New 
York  aristocracy;  they  passed  many  a  radiantly 
beautiful  woman,  many  a  magnificently  handsome 


WOMAITS  LOVE   VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION,    89 

man  ;  then  glancing  at  eacli  other,  their  passion-filled 
eyes  said : 

u  None  so  beautiful ;  none  so  fascinating — as  you !" 

They  chose  anon  a  quieter  drive,  where  few  met 
them,  and  the  naked  trees  arched  overhead  their 
twigs,  all  cased  in  ice,  a  glistening  tracery  of  most 
minute  and  exquisite  delicacy  against  the  deep  blue 
sky. 

Here  the  jet-black  horses  walking  along  the  frosty 
road,  Harrison  took  the  reins  in  one  strong  hand,  and, 
placing  the  other  on  Barry's  wrist — for  her  hands  were 
nestling  in  her  costly  muff — he  barst  out  fiercely  : 

;<  Barry,  I'm  the  most  miserable  man  on  earth  ? 
I'm  a  fool,  an  idiot!  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  ne-ver  been 
born  ! " 

An  encouraging  preface  to  a  declaration — was  it 
not? 

She  gazed  at  him  perplexed,  yet  smiling  ;  conven- 
tion had  taught  her  to  keep  her  countenance  ;  yet  the 
sight  of  these  gloomy  eyes  and  whitening,  compressed 
lips  sent  a  chill  to  her  heart. 

"  I  thought  you  seemed  .quite  satisfied  with  your 
lot  in  life,"  said  she.  "  What  do  you  lack  to  make 
your  happiness  complete?" 

"  I  want  you?  said  he,  "  and — and  you've  denied 
me!" 

Her  heart  stood  still.     It  had  come  1 


90     WOMAJP8  LOVE  VERSUS  MAWS  PASSION. 

"  I  have  denied  you,"  said  she,  a  heart-beat  in 
every  faltering  tone ;  "  but  that  is  all  forgotten — for- 
given." 

Harrison  seized  both  her  hands,  crushing  them  in 
such  a  tierce  grasp  that  her  diamonds  pierced  her 
tender  flesh  like  pins.  She  scarcely  felt  the  pain ; 
she  drooped  toward  him,  a  beautiful  woman,  her  love 
in  her  eyes. 

"  I  said  I  couldn't  marry  you  then,"  muttered  he, 
with  an  angry  oath.  "  Conceited  ass  that  I  was !  I 
might  have  seen  in  you  the  material  for  the  glorious 
creature  you  are  now  !  " 

"  Forgiven,  Harrison  !  Believe  me,  all  forgiven  !  " 
whispered  Barry. 

"  And  you  love  me  as  well  as  you  did  ?  Yes,  you 
do,  better,  far  better  than  you  did ! "  exclaimed 
Harrison,  with  burning  earnestness ;  "  for  your  mind 
is  expanded,  you  are  mistress  of  the  whole  range  of 
the  emotions.  They  are  at  your  command,  and,  too, 
you  are  at  theirs.  Your  capacity  for  loving  has 
grown  with  your  power  to  inspire  love ;  you  are  Love's 
queen,  but  also  his  slave  !  Oh !  Barry,  Barry  !  Why 
didn't  you  beg  me  to  marry  you  a  year  ago,  and  shame 
me  into  it,  or  when  you  failed  bury  yourself  where  I 
could  never  behold  your  tempting  loveliness  again  \ 
Perhaps  I  could  not  have  withstood  you.  You  love 
me,  don't  you,  Barry  ? " 


WOMAN  8  LOVE   VERSUS  MAWS  PASSION.    91 

Perhaps  it  was  a  whisper  of  woman's  dignity  ;  per- 
haps it  was  the  sight  of  his  haggard,  anxious  face, 
that  held  her  dumb.  This  time  she  did  not  answer 
that  question.  She  shrank  back  from  him,  trying  to 
release  her  hands. 

"  You  won't  say  ?  "Well,  it  would  be  poor  consola- 
tion if  you  did,"  remarked  he,  bitterly.  "  I  know  you 
do,  and  I  love  you  better  than  any  woman  in  the  world, 
and  I  would  marry  you,  oh,  proudly,  gladly,  if  I 
were  not  engaged  to  marry  another  !  " 

Barry  sat  dumb-smitten,  gazing  at  him  like  one 
risen  from  the  dead. 

"  Don't — don't  look  at  me  that  way,  my  poor 
darling !  "  faltered  he — miserable  tears  coming  to  his 
eyes.  u  I  should  have  told  you  at  first,  and  saved  you 
this,  but,  as  usual,  I  was  a  selfish  beast,  and  thought 
only  of  basking  in  your  wonderful  new  charms." 

Barry  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  they  were  dry 
and  rigid ;  she  could  not  utter  a  syllable. 

"  I  thought  when  I  saw  you  first,"  continued  he, 
"  that  you  had  schemed  to  get  into  my  mother's  house 
in  my  absence,  to  meet  me  on  my  return  home  with 
the  bitter  revenge  of  telling  my  mother  what  I  was, 
and  I  begged  you  to  stay  in  the  hope  of  conciliating 
you,  but  now — now,  I  adore,  I  worship  you,  Barry, 
you  are  the  one  woman  in  the  wide  earth  for  me,  and 

I've  PROMISED  TO  MARRY  KATilERINE  IlEXDRICK  !  " 


92     WOMAN1 '8  LOVE  VERSUS  MAWS  PASSION. 

She  made  shift  to  speak  this  time,  but  in  a  voice  sc 
strangely  unlike  her  own,  that  he  stalled  in  horror  as 
these  hollow  tones  fell  upon  his  ear : 

u  "When  are  you  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  In  a  month.   For  mercy's  sake,  don't  talk  about  it ! " 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  next  asked  Barry. 

"  You've  heard  of  Baron  Hendrick,  the  millionaire  ? 
His  daughter.  I  met  her  in  Paris,  passing  the  winter 
with  her  relatives,  the  Roscoes.  Oh,  she's  a  beauty 
and  a  belle,  I  tell  you !  "  But  I  wouldn't  give  her  whole 
delicately  nurtured,  diamond-bedizened  body  for  your 
little  finger,  if  you  were  a  beggar  in  the  streets,  Barry 
Pomeroy." 

Barry's  eyes  flashed. 

"  You  are  sure  of  my  love  ;  you  are  suue  of  your 
own  ?"  said  she ;  "  why  don't  you  tell  Catherine  Hen- 
drick the  truth,  and  marry  me  ?" 

His  clasp  relaxed.  It  was  his  turn  to  shrink  back 
with  a  scowling  and  disconcerted  air. 

"  What  a  question !  "  exclaimed  he.  "  I  do  think 
a  woman  the  most  unreasoning  creature  on  the  face 
of  the  earth.  Here  is  this  lady,  a  splendid  match ; 
everybody  dying  for  her  ;  the  favorite  toast  in  the 
highest  circles  of  Paris,  London,  and  New  York ; 
and  here's  yon,  a  nobody ;  picked  up  out  of  the  streets 
by  my  poor  Quixotic  mother — with  but  one  endow- 
ment— a  sort  of  demon's  fascination  that,  Circe  like, 


WOMAN'S  LOVE  VERSUS  MA3TS  PASSION.     93 

turns  men  who  drink  of  it  into  swine,  satisfied  with 
nothing  else.  "Why  don't  I  drop  her?  you  ask,  to  the 
scandal  of  the  social  world,  and  court  its  ridicule  and 
derision  by  marrying  you !  I  can't  tell  Katherine 
Hendrick  the  truth — I  won't ! " 

"  And  what,  may  I  ask,  was  your  purpose  in  speak- 
ing to  me  this  afternoon  ?  "  said  Barry,  a  scarlet  spot 
burning  in  the  middle  of  each  white  cheek. 

"  What's  the  use  of  my  telling  you  ? "  said  he, 
harshly.  "Like  all  your  sex  you  are  incapable  of 
disinterested  love.  You'd  be  right  glad  to  be  a  rich 
man's  wife,  doubtless !  Bat  you  wouldn't  for  love  of 
him  give  up  a  few  wretched  conventionalities." 

"  Stop  !  "  shrieked  Barry.  "  My  God,  this  is  the 
second  time ! " 

That  tingling  cry  sent  the  pacing  horses  bounding 
forward,  and  off  like  the  wind,  the  reins  on  the 
ground  at  their  heels,  but  Harrison  scarcely  noticed 
them,  for  with  her  words,  Barry  Pomeroy  had  hurled 
herself  from  the  carriage,  and  now  stood  alone  in  the 
middle  of  the  leafless*  a  venue,  gazing  with  set -face 
after  her  insulter,  an  he  leaned  over  the  back  of  the 
carriage  with  arms  stretched  forth  to  her ! 

******* 

No  wonder  the  people  stared  after  that  hurrying 
figure  as  it  sped  through  the  gathering  night,  trailing 
ks  sumptuous  skirts  in  the  frozen  street,  covering  its 


94     WOMA3P8  LOVE  VERSUS  MAWS  PASSION, 

bent  face  with  a  handkerchief  of  costly  lace  !  A  vel- 
vet-robed  lady,  with  jewels  worth  thousands  of 
dollars  twinkling  in  her  ears  and  at  her  throat, 
flitting  alone  through  the  lonely  wilderness  of  un- 
occupied lots  which  surround  Central  Park. 

It  was  Barbara  Pomeroy,  the  Barry  of  Thunder 
Peak,  two  hours  after  Harrison  Fairleigh  had  for  the 
second  time  blasted  her  ears  with  his  accursed  love. 

Where  had  she  been  all  that  time ;  and  whither 
was  she  flying  now  ? 

•  Ah,  the  despair-filled  heart  recks  little  where  the 
swift  feet  bear  it,  only  bidding  them  fly !  fly  !  and 
leave  its  agony  behind  !  Round  and  round  those  in- 
terminable walks  had  she  strayed,  unconscious  of  the 
passing  time  ;  and  her  frenzied  thoughts  had  by  this 
gradually  shaped  themselves  toward  one  fell  pur- 
pose. 

Cruelly,  cruelly  wronged  she  had  been,  had  she 
not,  oh,  sisters? 

Who  that  has  lavished  the  purest,  the  noblest,  the 
most  generous  love  of  her  nature  upon  man  at  his 
fervent  entreaty,  would  not  deem  herself  debased  for- 
ever, cheated,  fit  for  life  no  longer,  when  with  words 
like  Harrison  Fairleigh's  upon  his  shameless  lips,  he 
showed  her  that  her  god  whom  she  worshipped  was 
but  a  loathsome  demon,  tempting  her  to  depths  of 
unutterable  infamy  ? 


• 
WOMAN'S  LOVE  VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION.    95 

After  this,  either  revenge  or  death  ! 
,   Barry  thought  no   longer  of   revenge.     Ah,  no! 
Her  heart  had  died  within  her ;  revenge  needs  life, 
•fierce  vitality,  to  nurture  it ! 

As  she  had  sat  exhausted  upon  a  bench  near  one  of 
the  park  entrances,  a  policeman  had  come  to  her,  say- 
ing, respectfully  enough,  but  significantly : 

"  Madame,  shall  I  get  you  a  carriage  ?  " 

She  had  roused  herself  then,  to  observe  that  it  was 
nearly  seven  o'clock,  and  that  the  park  was  deserted 
and  night  deepening. 

"Thanks!"  said  she,  in  a  quiet,  dull  way.  "I 
shall  walk." 

She  passed  out,  crossed  Eighth  Avenue,  and,  taking 
Seventieth  Street,  rapidly  disappeared. 

"  Looks  badly,"  muttered  the  policeman,  taking 
up  his  march  again.  "  She  was  as  white  as  a  ghost !  " 

She  looked  all  along  the  quiet  streets — every  door 
shut — no  shelter  for  her !  She  looked  up  to  the  cold, 
violet  sky — the  doors  of  heaven  were  like  the  doors 
of  earth — locked  against  her !  She  muffled  her 
stricken  face,  and  ran  down  toward  the  river. 

As  its  chill  breath  came  up  to  meet  her,  and  she 
felt  it  on  her  burning  brow,  she  uttered  an  inarticu- 
late cry. 

Rest  lay  in  its  cold  bosom — ah,  how  near ! 

She  quickened  her  steps. 


96      WOMAN'S  LOVE   VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION. 

At  that  moment  Something  laid  hold  of  her  skirts 
and  dragged  her  back.  She  stopped  and  looked 
round.  Not  a  soul  visible — nothing ! 

"  Feverish  delusions ! "  muttered  she,  and  sprang 
on  again. 

The  strong  smell  of  tar  came  to  her  nostrils,  with 
the  noisome  odors  of  shipping  and  river  mud ;  she 
saw  the  masts  and  ruddy  lights  about  the  margin,  and 
caught  the  smooth  glisten  of  the  water  beyond. 

"I  wonder  if  he  is  dead,  and  if  I  shall  meet  him 
before  God  right  now  !  "  thought  Barry,  and  she  flew 
over  the  slippery  pavement. 

And  again  Something  laid  hold  on  her  floating 
skirts  and  held  her  back. 

She  looked  about ;  she  put  down  her  hand  and 
shook  her  robe.  No  one  had  touched  her ;  nothing 
was  near  her. 

She  put  both  of  her  shaking  hands  to  her  forehead 
and  began  to  moan. 

"1  am  mad — mad — mad!  God  won't  judge  me 
now  for  this  last  sin.  He'll  know  my  brain  was 
turned." 

She  staggered  on  and  reached  the  river's  brink,  at 
a  quiet  place  shut  in  by  a  crazy  wooden  fence.  A 
shadow  black  as  ink  lay  on  the  water  here,  cast  from 
the  hull  of  a  vessel  at  the  next  wharf,  and  although 
there  was  the  hum  of  voices  all  around,  and  the  glare 


WOMAWS  LOVE   VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION.     97 

of  the  low  taverns  and  dance-houses  across  the  street, 
neither  voice  nor  light  intruded  here. 

Barry  Pomeroy  leaned  over  the  black  water. 

"  You  let  me  love  him,  God,"  she  muttered  in  bit- 
ter reproach ;  "  and  you  let  him  do  this  to  me. 
You've  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  live  here  any 
longer ;  now  let  me  get  into  another  world.  I  don't 
know  which,  and  I  don't  much  care.  This  one  is 
about  as  terrible  as  any  you've  created." 

With  these  fearful  words  upon  her  lips,  she  was 
just  poising  herself  for  the  fatal  leap,  when,  for  the 
third  time,  that  mysterious  Something  laid  tight 
hold  upon  her,  and  tore  her  back  from  the  black  verge 
of  suicide. 

She  gazed  about  wildly.  Nothing,  nothing  to  be 
seen ! 

An  awful  panic  seized  her  ;  the  flesh  of  her  crept ; 
the  hair  upon  her  head  stood  upright. 

She  flung  herself  upon  a  heap  of  loose  stones  and 
rubbish,  panting,  ready  to  die  with  supernatural 
horror; 

And  then  she  seemed  to  hear  two  voices  speaking 
close  beside  her,  and  the  first  was  her  own.  It  said : 

"  Pd  Mil  myself  if  I  didn't  hope  to  be  even  wif/i 
him  some  day" 

And  the  other  was  Barb's.     It  answered : 

"  No,  no  !     You  wouldn't  be  let  do  that.     If  your 


98      WOMAN1  S  LOVE  VERSUS  MAN'S  PASSION. 

mother  is  a  good  woman,  her  prayers  would  drag 
you  back  again  !  " 

******* 
"Oh,  great  God!"  shivered  Barry.  "Is  mother 
praying  for  me  ?  Then  I  dare  not  try  to  die  !  Cruel, 
cruel  Creator,  I  will  live,  then ;  but  I  tell  Thee  this : 
if  Thou  hast  not  avenged  me  already,  I  will  only  live 
to  avenge  myself !  " 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

THE   HANDS   THAT   HELPED   BAKKY   ON   HEE,   WAT. 

iA 

,T  was  about  nine  o'clock  of  the  night  when 
Barry  alighted  from  a  street  cab  at  Mrs.  Fair- 
leigh's  door.  The  footman  who  opened  the 
door  expressed  his  relief  at  her  appearance. 

"  They've  been  out  searching  for  you  ever  since 
Mr.  Fairleigh  was  brought  home  :  Mrs.  Fairleigh  and 
young  Mr.  Fairleigh  are  in  a  sad  way  about  you,  miss." 

"  Tell  them  I'm  safe,"  said  Barry,  and  immedi- 
ately passed  on  to  her  room. 

Harrison  Fairleigh  was  not  killed,  then  ! 

As  she  laid  aside  her  torn  and  draggled  clothing, 
the  unearthly  glitter  of  her  eyes  might  have  daunted 
the  bravest  heart,  and  yet  how  soft  and  gentle  grew 
that  livid  face  of  hers  when  Mrs.  Fairleigh  hurried 
in  to  clasp  her  in  her  arms,  breathing  joyful  thanks- 
giving that  she  was  unhurt ! 

"But  where  were  you,  dear?  You  must  have 
passed  a  terribly  time ! "  exclaimed  she,  taking  the 


100         TEE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARR7. 

cold  face  between  her  soft  hands  and  gazing  into  it 
with  eager  questioning.  "  Harrison  has  suffered  the 
keenest  anxiety  about  you  ever  since  he  was  brought 
home,  poor  fellow ;  if  he  had  not  been  really  too 
much  shaken  to  stand  on  his  feet,  he  would  not  have 
rested  a  moment  until  he  had  found  you." 

"  When  the  horses  ran  away  I  sprang  out,  and  was 
stunned  by  the  shock,"  said  Barry,  in  measured  tones. 
"  It  was  a  long  time  before  I  thought  of  leaving  the 
park,  and  then  I  was  too  bewildered  to  take  the  right 
direction  home.  However,  no  harm  came  to  me,  and 
I'm  quite  myself  now  ;  don't  worry  about  me  at  all, 
dear  Mrs.  Fairleigh.  How  is  Harrison  ? " 

"  Not  badly  hurt,  I  hope,"  answered  Mrs.  Fairleigh, 
cheerfully.  "  There  are  no  fractures,  but  he  must  lie 
still  for  a  day  or  two.  The  horses  fetched  up  at 
length  against  a  wall,  and  one  of  them  was  killed  on 
the  spot,  poor  animal ;  Harrison  was  dashed  out  with 
great  violence,  and  was  picked  up  insensible,  and 
cared  for  in  the  nearest  drug  store.  Then  he  came 
home  to  me.  I  am  so  glad  that  he  did  not  go  to  the 
hotel  instead.  He  has  been  so  uneasy  about  you  that 
I  could  not  soothe  him.  Marah,  dear,  you  must  have 
both  been  very  much  absorbed  in  conversation  to  let 
the  horses  run  away,"  added  the  lady,  with  a  search- 
ing glance. 

Barry  cast  down  her  eyes  modestly. 


THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY.         101 

"  Yes,  we  were  exchanging  confidences  on  a  -very 
interesting  subject,"  said  she,  "  and  in  his  enthusiasm 
Harrison  dropped  the  reins.  No,  no  ;  yon  misun- 
derstand," she  added,  quickly,  as  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  with 
a  bright  smile  of  triumph,  made  a  movement  as  if  to 
embrace  her,  "/  was  not  the  heroine  of  Mr.  Fair- 
leigh's  romance." 

"  Marah  !  "  gasped  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  "  you  don't 
mean  to  tell  me " 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing,"  interposed  Barry,  taking 
the  soft  old  hand  in  hers  with  a  graceful  tenderness. 
"  Harrison  will,  no  doubt,  tell  you  all  himself." 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  looked  puzzled  and  disappointed. 

"  My  dear,"  said  she,  presently,  "  I  am  forgetting 
my  orders.  Harrison  insists  upon  seeing  you  the 
first  moment  you  can  go  to  him,  that  he  may  assure 
himself  that  you  have  suffered  no  harm  from  his 
'folly,  as  he  calls  it." 

Barry  paled  a  little,  but  being  fully  dressed,  and 
having  no  excuse  ready,  she  said,  without  the  slightest 
appearance  of  embarrassment : 

"  Oh,  I  shall  certainly  obey !  I  shall  go  now ;  "  and 
down  she  went  forthwith  to  the  parlor,  where  Harri- 
son lay  groaning  upon  the  sofa. 

He  turned  his  ghastly  face  as  she  came  in  so  coolly 
and  calmly  with  his  mother,  and  a  cold  perspiration 
broke  out  on  his  forehead. 


102        THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  Marah,"  he  said,  hoarsely. 
''Only  a  few-  words,  Marah;  I  owe  you  some 
apology,  you  know,"  he  added,  with  a  sickly  attempt 
at  a  laugh,  "  for  giving  you  such  a  scare." 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  stole  out,  hope  in  her  smiling  eyes. 

Barry  went  near  the  sofa,  and  stood  with  dark 
gaze  fastened  upon  the  writhing  young  man. 

"Barry!"  he  burst  forth,  feverishly,  "can  you 
ever,  ever  forget  this  second  insult  ?  I  don't  defend 
my  conduct — you  see  I've  suffered  for  it  pretty 
dearly,  and  serves  me  rightly  ;  but  what  are  broken 
bones  or  the  loss  of  a  dozen  blood-horses  to 'the  loss 
of  you  ?  I  see  too  clearly  what  a  blind  beast  I  was 
ever  to  hope  to  win  you  by  any  but  the  regular  way  ; 
and,  confound  it !  it's  too  late  to  try  that  now." 

The  loss  of  a  horse  comparable  for  one  moment 
with  the  eternal  loss  of  a  woman!  Was  this  the 
man  she  was  ready  an  hour  ago  to  drown  herself  for  ? 
Barry's  lip  curled  with  ungovernable  contempt,  but 
she  merged  the  curl  into  a  pathetic  droop,  and  veiled 
her  scintillating  orbs  with  pathetically  dropped  eye- 
lashes. 

"  O  Barry !  "  entreated  the  victim  of  his  own  self- 
ishness, "  if  you  knew  how  passionately  I  love  you, 
you  would  forgive  me.  I've  been  almost  frantic 
about  you  ever  since  that  wretched  accident ;  a  thou- 
sand times  I  heartily,  wished  I  had  been  dashed  in 


THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY.   103 

pieces  instead  of  Giaour,  fearing  you  would  never 
come  back." 

He  groaned  again  with  physical  as  well  as  mental 
pain,  and  feebly  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  glass  of 
water  at  his  side. 

Barry  swept  forward,  sank  on  her  knees,  and  pass- 
ing her  beautiful  arm  under  his  head,  placed  the  glass 
to  his  lips,  and,  with  a  smile  enough  to  make  one's 
brain  whirl  with  pleasure,  bade  him  drink. 

"  Trouble  yourself  no  more,"  said  she,  in  velvet 
accents.  "  Love  prompted  your  fault — true  love  for- 
gives it.  If  I  must  lose  you  so  soon,  Harrison" — a 
peculiar  expression  flashed  over  her  well-ordered  face, 
as  if  some  restless  fiend  had  peeped 'out — "so  soon, 
my  dear,  I  sha'n't  embitter  our  last  hours  together. 
In  a  month  Katherine  Hendrick  will  claim  your  duty. 
Till  then  I  hold  you  mine." 

Harrison,  hearing  this  wild  instance  of  woman's 
devotion,  felt  a  warm  glow  of  exultant  satisfaction 
steal  over  him,  even  while  he  laughed  mightily  in  the 
secret  recesses  of  his  worldly-wise  heart  over  its  niad 
and  fatal  folly. 

"  Done !  "  said  he,  grasping  her  with  greedy  hands, 
and  wasting  not  a  thought  on  the  ruinous  consequences 
to  her.  "  Till  marriage  parts  us,  we  belong  to  each 
other.  Kiss  me,  Barry." 

Obedient,  she  bent  her  blushing  lips  to  his,  but  long, 


104        THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY. 

long  he  remembered  the  mystic  thrill  of  unreasoning 
terror  which  ran  through  every  fibre  of  his  being  at 
their  burning  touch 

********* 

"Ah,  come  in,  Barb  ;  you're  cold,  ar'n't  you  ?    Mis- 
"    erable  day." 

"  Yes,  Barry,  it  is  snowing  some,  but  I  ran  all  the 
way  here  in  such  a  hurry  that  I'm  as  warm  as  toast. 
You  didn't  come  this  morning  to  tell  me  about  the 
drive,  after  all." 

"  No  ;  we  met  with  a  disagreeable  accident  which 
put  a  summary  stop  to  marriage  proposals ;  besides 
which,  a  new  feature  made  its  appearance  not  exactly 
conducive  to  comfortable  love-making." 

"  Mercy,  Barry  !  how  queerly  you  do  talk !  And 
now  I  see  you  clear,  how  queerly  you  look !  Is — is  it 
all  gone  to  smash,  dear  Barry?" 

"Good  little  woman,  don't  worry  over  it — I  don't. 
I'm  resigned,  perfectly.  Yes,  my  hopes  in  that  direc- 
tion have  all  gone — as  you  put  it — to  smash.  My 
cavalier  is  engaged  to  another  lady,  '  fairer  and  better 
than  I,'  as  Joaquin  Miller  has  it.  Ha !  ha !  A  mil- 
lionaire's daughter,  my  child — worth  thousands! 
What  would  you  have?  A  year  ago  I  was  milking 
cows ! ' ' 

"  Don't,  Barry !  You  don't  speak  in  earnest,  I 
know ;  this  is  all  bitter  chaff,  you  couldn't  smile  with 


THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY.        105 

them  white  lips  of  yours  if  you  let  your  real  feel- 
ings speak.  Mr.  Fairleigh  has  played  the  villain, 
and  I  know  you  too  well  to  believe  you  are  going 
to  take  it  as  quietly  as  this.  Oh,  my  dear!  my 
dear !  tell  me  everything,  and  let  me  at  least  cry  for 
you ! " 

"  There's  nothing  more  to  tell,  except  that  in  the 
heat  of  the  discussion  he  let  the  horses  run  off.  T 
jumped  out  and  found  my  way  home  by  one  road, 
and  he  was  dashed  out,  and  brought  home  hurt,  by 
another." 

"  Is  he  here — under  the  same  roof  with  you  ? " 

"  He  is." 

"  And  you  intend  to  stay  here  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  to  assist  at  his  nuptials.     Ah!  ha!  ha!" 

"Oh,  don't  laugh,  Barry!" 

"And  don't  you  cry,  Barb.  There's  nothing 
worth  crying  over.  All  is  going  merry  as  a  mar- 
riage bell ! " 

"  I  never  saw  you  so  hard,  so — so  terrible,  Barry. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ? " 

"  To  study  how  to  live  comfortably  without  the  in- 
convenience of  feeling.  There,  there,  don't  wear  the 
subject  threadbare  ;  let's  drop  it." 

"  No,  dear  Barry,  I  can't  drop  it.  You  are  not 
like  yourself,  and  I'm  afraid  of  you.  I'd  rather  see 
you  as  you  used  to  be,  ramping  and  raging — I  knew 


106        THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY. 

what  to  dread  then,  but  now — now — for  my  sake — 
for  your  mother's  sake,  beware  where  your  evil  heart 
leads  you ! " 

"  Stop !  mention  my  mother's  name  to  me  again, 
and  you'll  never  see  me  more.  Let  me  go  my  way, 
Barbara,  and  you  go  yours;  we  are  not  likely  to  agree 
well  henceforth." 

"  You  tell  me  that,  Barry  !  Oh,  my  heart !  what 
is  she  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  To  bear  the  cross  which  God  has  put  upon  me 
with  a  quiet  spirit,  and  to  thank  Him  for  it,  as  the 
palpable  means  of  my  salvation." 

"  My  darling,  you  scoff,  but  He  is  very  sorry  for 
you  just  now." 

"  Enough,  Barb,  I  can't  stay  with  you  to-day, 
because  I  think  it  my  duty  to  practise  the  sweet 
graces  of  a  forgiving  spirit,  and  to  crucify  the  flesh 
with  its  affections  and  lusts,  by  devoting  myself  to 
the  amusement  of  mine  adversary  who  has  smitten 
me  so  sorely.  Don't  come  to  see  me  again,  Barb, 
until  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  let  me  bear  this  my 
own  way." 

And  so  they  part,  Barry  to  sweep  down  in  her  lus- 
trous robes  to  the  sullying  presence  of  the  man  who 
would  destroy  her  ;  Barb  to  creep  out  into  the  whirl- 
ing snow,  with  her  little  hands  clasped  and  the 
sobbing  cry  upon  her  lips : 


TEE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY.   107 

"  Sweet  Jesus !  melt  her  heart !     Sweet  Jesus !  melt 
her  heart!" 


"  So  my  son  is  engaged  to  Miss  Hendrick !  "  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Fairleigh,  eyeing  her  adopted  daughter 
wistfully.  "  And  he  has  told  you  all  about  it.  "Well, 
well,  she  is  a  beautiful  girl,  and  a  highly  accomplished 
one ;  I  hope  they  may  be  happy  together." 

"  Amen  ! "  murmured  Barry,  looking  up  from  her 
delicate  silken  fancy  work.  "  They  love  each  other 
so  devotedly,  that  they  deserve  to  be  happy — at  least 
so  I  gather  from  Harrison's  enthusiastic  descriptions 
of  her  devotion,  beauty,  and  worth." 

"  We  must  go  and  call  upon  the  bride-elect.  We 
should  have  gone  before  had  we  known  of  this  en- 
gagement. I  wonder  why  Harrison  did  not  announce 
it  at  once." 

"  Perhaps  he  felt  the  subject  too  sacred  to  be  dis- 
cussed before  outsiders,"  said  Barry,  with  an  innocent 
smile.  "I  know  if  I  loved  any  one  with  the  reveren- 
tial idolatry  which  he  lavishes  upon  her,  I  should  feel 
a  certain  hesitation  about  airing  my  passion  or  analyz- 
ing it,  even  to  my  mother,  if  I  had  one." 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  dropped  the  subject ;  it  was  difficult 
to  carry  it  on  with  such  a  tyro  in  love  matters  as  this 
inexperienced  maiden  ;  besides  which,  it  was  a  pain- 
ful subject  to  her,  and  caused  her  some  uneasiness. 


108        THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY. 

It  was  very  singular,  very,  that  Harrison  should 
have  delayed  so  long  announcing  his  engagement  to 
a  lady  to  whom  he  was  to  be  married  in  a  month. 
She  was  an  unexceptionable  match  in  a  worldly  point 
of  view,  and  he  was  none  the  less  eligible;  they  had 
been  engaged  for  several  months  already,  and  had  ap- 
peared openly  together  in  Paris  and  London,  why 
then  this  uncomfortable  secrecy,  and  this  unpleasant 
ignoring  of  his  only  relative  ?  Above  all,  why  should 
he  have  sedulously  concealed  the  matter  from  his 
mother  and  her  adopted  daughter,  for  a  whole 
week  after  his  arrival  home,  while  the  bride's  friends 
were  busily  engaged  in  preparations  for  the  ceremony, 
and  were  doubtless  marvelling  much  at  the  unwonted 
delay  of  his  relatives  in  recognizing  the  connection 
about  to  be  formed  ? 

"  No  time  is  to  be  lost,  Marah ;  we  must  call  this 
afternoon,"  said  the  ruffled  lady.  "  If  we  had  kn  own 
we  should  have  gone  down  to  the  steamer  to  meet 
Miss  Ilendrick.  What  must  she  think  of  our  n3o-li- 

G> 

gence  ? " 

Miss  Ilendrick  had  crossed  the  ocean  under  the 
protection  of  a  wealthy  New  York  lady  acquaintance 
in  the  same  steamer  with  her  betrothed,  Mr.  Fair- 
leigh,  and  her  cousin,  Mr.  Roscoe ;  indeed,  sho  had 
spent  many  months  in  almost  daily  companionship 
with  the  gentleman  who  was  about  to  claim  Her 


THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY.    109 

hand,  having  travelled  with  the'  Roscoe  parly,  of 
•which  he  and  she  formed  members,  all  over  the  Euro- 
pean continent,  not  to  speak  of  the  gay  season  in 
Paris,  and"  the  familiar  communion  afforded  by  the 
voyage  across  the  ocean.  She  ought  to  understand 
his  nature  well,  if  any  woman  could ! 

About  half  an  hour  subsequently  the  two  ladies 
were  being  ushered  into  the  reception-room  of  the 
elegant  white  marble  mansion  of  Baron  Ilendrick, 
where  the  baroness  and  her  daughter  sat  in  state,  re- 
ceiving. 

A  word  or  two  about  this  rival  of  Barbara  Pome- 
roy's. 

A  pampered  baby — an  indulged  child — a  selfish 
woman. 

Beautiful  ?  Yes,  as  beautiful  as  if  an  Angelo's 
hand  had  sculptured  her,  and  yet  a  Greater  than 
Angelo  created  that  lovely  face,  and  it  wanted  love- 
liness. 

Soul,  there  was  none  ;  gentleness,  humility,  maiden 
tenderness,  were  gems  that  all  her  wealth  could  not 
buy  Katharine  Ilendrick. 

And  men  raved  over  her  "  rust-red  locks,"  twined 
in  burnished  masses  round  her  queenly  head ;  over 
her  pure  visage,  rendered  haughty,  said  they,  only 
by  the  delicate  aquiline  of  the  nose — for  the  mouth 
was  small  and  red  as  rose-leaves,  and  the  eyes  were 


110        THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY. 

humid  hazel; — over  her  long  neck,  white  as  sea- 
foam,  her  sylphine  figure,  stately  only  in  its  regal 
poise ;  in  fact,  over  all  the  outward  clothing  of  the 
small,  chill  heart  and  dwarfed  soul  which  made  the 
real  woman. 

Her  mother?  "Well,  there  are  thousands  such — 
tens  of  thousands.  Filled  with  vaunting  pride  of 
wealth  and  station,  with  vaulting  ambition,  never  to 
be  satiated,  superficial  observers,  measuring  all  men 
by  the  length  of  their  purses.  Oh,  she  was  not  the 
mother,  I  tell  you,  to  yearn  over  the  future  of  her 
one  fair  child  with  brooding  anxiety  and  tender 
prayers — of  far  greater  consequence  to  her  was  the 
precedence  of  her  haughty  Katherine  in  society  than 
mere  vulgar  heart-ease ! 

Having  -made  the  acquaintance  of  their  specially 
interesting  visitors,  the  four  sat  down  to  take  stock  of 
each  other,  and  while  the  elder  ladies  glanced  with 
intense  curiosity  at  the  younger  ladies,  these  fastened 
their  eyes  upon  each  other  with  a  keen  scrutiny 
scarcely  disguised  And  as  each  felt  the  power  of 
the  other's  wondrous  beauty,  one  little  lightning  flash 
of  scorn  darted  from  each  pair  of  eyes,  and  a  faint 
defiant  smile  curved  each  perfect  lip. 

"Miss  Leith  is — a — your  adopted  daughter?" 
drawled  Baroness  Heudrick,  folding  her  large  white 
hands  in  her  silken  lap. 


THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY.        Ill 

"  Yes  ;  a  charming  girl,  and  a  great  source  of  pleas- 
ure to  me  ;  but  let  us  talk  of  your  lovely  child,  she  is 
perfectly  radiant.  It  seems  heartless  to  steal  her 
from  you,  you  must  love  her  so  dearly,"  answered 
Mrs.  Fairleigh,  who  was  quite  moved  by  the  sight  of 
her  son's  choice,  and  felt  her  warm  heart  going  out 
to  her  already. 

Meantime,  Miss  Hendrick  was  saying,  in  a  voice 
like  some  sweet  silver  instrument : 

"  You  were  long  in  coming  to  see  me,  but  now 
you've  come,  I  can't  be«angry  with  you.  I  daresay 
you  were  so  glad  to  have  Harrison  back  that  you 
could  not  be  troubled  making  formal  calls." 

To  which  Barry  answered,  perceiving  distinctly  the 
little  shaft  of  jealousy  shot  at  her,  and  glorying  in 
her  power  to  sting : 

"  Mrs.  Fairleigh  never  makes  formal  calls,  and  does 
not  consider  this  one ;  but,  as  you  say,  we  were  very 
glad  to  have  Harrison  back,  and  he  was  so  glad  to  be 
at  home  again  that  we  could  scarcely  get  him  to  con- 
sent to  our  leaving  him  to  come  to-day." 

For  a  moment  Miss  Hendrick  sat  mutely  gazing  at 
her  as  astonished  as  if  she  had  struck  her  in  the  face ; 
but  the  bold  eyes  met  hers  unflinchingly,  and  the 
splendid  woman  before  her  seemed  to  her,  in  that  first 
instant  of  wondering  terror,  as  strong,  as  hard,  and 
as  inaccessible  as  a  tower. 


112        THE  HANDS  THAT  HELPED  BARRY. 

"  You  never  saw  my  fiance  before,  did  yon  \  "  de- 
manded she,  a  strange  quiver  in  her  silver  tones. 

"  Never  before,"  answered  Barry,  with  a  cruel 
smile ;  "  but  I  know  him  pretty  well  already,  and  he 
is  such  a  finished  courtier  that  I  do  not  wonder  in 
the  least  at  his  victory  over  your  heart.  He  has  al- 
most won  my  own,  ha,  ha!  Really  I  envy  you,  Miss 
Hendrick." 

"  Ila !  ha !  ha !  "  laughed  Katharine  Hendrick, 
softly,  while  her  flashing  eyes  said :  "  War  to  the 
death,  Marah  Leith !  " 

"  Ila !  ha  !  ha ! "  echoed  Barry,  as  softly,  while  her 
taunting  eyes  took  up  the  challenge. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HEK. 


•ARRISON  FAIRLEIGII  was  back  in  his 
hotel  again,  having  quite  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  his  accident,  and  having  nc 
excuse  to  stay  longer  under  his  mother's  roof. 

He  had  been  wonderfully  loth  to  leave,  however; 
for  once  in  his  life  he  sincerely  enjoyed  the  quiet- 
ness and  seclusion  of  Mrs.  Fairleigh's  home,  and 
turned  with  an  internal  shudder  of  disgust  tQ.  the 
fashionably  fast  life  to  be  led  in  his  hotel.  But  he 
had  no  excuse  to  stay,  and  Roscoe  waited  impatiently 
for  his  friend  to  rejoin  him. 

One  morning,  sauntering  out  to  Madison  Square  to 
smoke  a  sulky  cigar,  and  to  rnuse  uninterruptedly 
upon  the  tempting  fascinations  of — well,  not  exactly 
his  bride-elect — he  was  stopped  by  a  little  vailed 
figure  wrapped  in  a  thick  shawl,  which  rose  from  a 
seat  at  his  approach. 

"Mr.  Harrison  Fairleigh?"  said  she,  interroga- 
tively. 


]14r    HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

Her  voice  was  tremulously  sweet,  fresh,  and  young, 
and  the  tip  of  a  wind-blown  tress  of  pale  gold  hair 
was  visible  under  her  veil.  Harrison  thought  it 
would  be  interesting  to  stop,  so  he  did  so. 

Had  some  wrinkled,  helpless  old  woman  slipped 
upon  the  frozen  pavement  and  fallen  at  his  feet,  he 
would  have  passed  on  with  a  shrug  and  a  muttered 
"  Poor  old  mummy  !  "  but  this  being,  whom  he  firmly 
expected  to  beg  some  sort  of  assistance  from  him,  was 
young  and  (he  hoped)  pretty,  and  on  the  whole,  Har- 
rison did  not  mind  paying  something  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  talking  to  a  handsome  woman. 

"  Yes,  madam,  that  is  my  name,"  replied  he,  lift- 
ing his  hat  with  his  most  easy  grace.  "  Have  I  the 
honor  of  knowing  you  ?  "  and  he  gazed  hard  at  the 
black  veil. 

She  drew  it  aside,  exposing  a  delicate,  small-fea- 
tured countenance,  with  large  misty  blue  eyes,  and  a 
pure,  earnest  expression. 

"  You  don't  know  me,"  said  she,  quietly,  "  but  I 
know  you  and  Barbara  Pomeroy" 

lie  started,  and  a  dark  glow  overspread  his  frown- 
ing face. 

"  You  do !  "  exclaimed  he,  "  and  who  are  you  ? " 

"  Never  mind  that ;  I  have  watched  for  a  chance 
of  speaking  to  you  unobserved,  for  several  days." 

"  You  must  have  something  tremendous  to  say,  or  * 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER.    115 

you  wouldn't  freeze  yourself  hanging  about  here  on 
that  slim  chance !  Come,  young  lady,  what  do  you 
want  with  me  ? " 

For  a  few  moments  they  walked  under  the  leafless 
trees,  side  by  side,  in  silence ;  Harrison  casting  side- 
glances  at  the  sorrowful  young  face  of  the  girl,  and 
racking  his  brains  to  conjecture  what  she  might  have 
to  communicate,  while  she  walked  on  wrapped  in 
thought. 

Presently  she  turned  to  him,  scanning  him  with  a 
timid  yet  earnest  air. 

"  You  have  done  such  harm  to  Barbara  Pomeroy, 
that  you've  changed  what,  I  am  sure,  was  a  good 
nature,  into  a  vindictive  and  revengeful  one.  I  don't 
know  what  to  say  to  you  about  her,  except  to  entreat 
you  to  leave  her  alone,  and  to  beware  of  her."  She 
stopped,  tears  rushed  into  her  eyes,  her  gentle  lips 
trembled.  "  I  can't  bear  to  speak  so  of  Barry,  for  I 
love  her  very  dearly,"  faltered  she,  "  and  it  breaks  my 
heart  to  see  her  so  bitterly  wronged  that  she  should 
turn  as  hard  as  a  rock." 

Harrison  listened  in  astonishment. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  he  burst  forth,  "  and  how  do  you 
come  to  know  all  this  girl's  secrets  ?  " 

"  I  needn't  tell  you  ;  "  said  she,  firmly,  "and  you 
needn't  ask  her  neither  ;  I've  no  business  to  interfere 
in  the  matter,  for  I'm  no  relation  to  Barbara,  but  I 


116    HANDS  TEAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER'' 

love  her  too  well  to  stand  by  and  see  her  destroy  her- 
self for  the  sake  of  a  man  who  isn't  worth  her 
love." 

"Thank  you!  thank  you!"  said  Harrison,  satiri- 
cally. "  I  perceive  why  you  preserve  an  incognito ; 
behind  it  you  can  say  a  good  many  things  you  would 
not  venture  upon  else." 

"  You  mistake,"  said  she,  with  simple  dignity.  "  I 
have  no  wish  to  reproach  you ;  that  would  do  no  g<K)d ; 
but  I  must  save  her  from  you,  and  from  herself." 

"  I  would  advise  you  not  to  meddle,"  said  Harri- 
son, irritably.  "Barbara  and  1  can  get  along  well 
enough,  1  dare  say,  without  your  assistance." 

Her  sweet  blue  eyes  flashed  upon  him  with  a  sud- 
den loathing. 

"  What  do  you  call  '  getting  along '  ?  "  said  she. 

"  You  want  a  definition  '? "  laughed  he,  with  a  shrng 
of  the  shoulders.  "  Well,  here's  one  that  will  suit 
your  unsophisticated  ear.  Barbara  and  I  have  agreed 
to  forget  the  past,  forgive  each  other,  and  be  friends 
for  the  future.  That's  pretty  well  on  the  square,  isn't 
it?" 

She  did  not  heed  his  taunting  manner  or  his  inock- 
'ing  tone  :  her  whole  attention  was  fastened  upon  the 
true  meaning  of  his  words. 

"  You  know,  sir,  that  she  loves  you  ;  you've  made 
her  say  it  often  !  "  exclaimed  she,  in  an  agitated  voice. 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER.    117 

"  And  I've  returned  the  compliment ;  so  we're 
quits  !  "  jeered  lie. 

"  How  do  you  think  she  will  bear  your  marriage 
with  Miss  Hendrick  2  "  continued  the  young  girl. 

"  As  well,  I  dare  say,  as  I  shall,"  answered  he, 
gnawing  his  flossy  mustache  impatiently.  "  I  can't 
marry  a  country  girl  from  Thunder  Peak,  you 
know " 

"  Thunder  Peak  !  "  whispered  the  young  girl  to 
herself. 

"  And  she's  quite  convinced  of  that  by  this  time, 
and  is  far  too  sensible  to  throw  up  her  comfortable 
home  with  my  mother  for  any  stupid  sentiment  re- 
garding me." 

"  Oh,  how  you  have  mistaken  her  character ! " 
cried  the  girl.  "  What  a  pitiful  sham  your  love  must 
be,  when  you  could  think  her  so  shallow  !  Now  lis- 
ten, Mr.  Fairleigh." 

They  paused  close  by  the  basin,  under  a  stout  tree 
which  somewhat  shielded  them  from  the  observation 
of  the  passers-by. 

"  I  have  often  heard  her  threaten  you  with  her  ven- 
geance because  you  insulted  her  at  Thunder  Peak ; 
but  these  threats  were  nothing,  meant  nothing,  I  am 
sure,  and  would  have  proved  mere  idle  words  had 
you  given  your  love  to  her  honorably  at  last.  But 
ever  since  that  day  you  and  she  went  out  driving,  I 


118    HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

have  trembled  for  her  and  for  you.  Oh  !  she  is  hard 
and  bitter !  I  would  rather  see  her  dead  than  follow- 
ing the  promptings  of  her  own  heart  now  !  I  don't 
know  what  she  means  to  do,  but  I  know  she  means  to 
take  a  fearful  revenge,  and  what  I  say  to  you  is,  Be- 
ware ! — beware  of  Barbara  Pomeroy !  " 

She  uttered  these  last  words  in  a  raised  and  excited 
voice,  retreating  from  him  as  sjie  spoke ;  and  with  'a 
slight  parting  wave  of  her  hand,  hurried  away. 

"  What's  all  the  mystery  ?  "  cried  a  laughing  voice. 

Harrison  looked  round  with  a  whispered  execration, 
to  see  his  friend  Hoscoe  almost  at  his  elbow. 

"  {  Beware  of  Barbara  Pomeroy  \ '  And  who's  Bar- 
bara Pomeroy?  A  very  pretty  little  escapade,  my 
gay  Lothario !  " 

"  Hang  it ! "  muttered  Harrison,  completely  cov- 
ered with  confusion,  "  who  was  to  suppose  you  were 
dodging  one  ? " 

"  Eli !  '  Dodging  ? '  No,  no,  Fairleigh,  that's  too 
bad  !  "  remonstrated  Eoscoe,  staring  in  some  dismay 
at  the  visible  perturbation  of  his  friend.  "  I  saw  you 
strolling  along  in  this  confoundedly  draughty  place, 
with  a  nice-looking  young  lady  beside  you,  and 
strolled  after  you,  in  the  natural  hope  of  sharing  in  a 
pleasant  episode.  You  seemed  so  absorbed  too " 

"And  how  much  of  our  absorbing  conversation 
did  you  overhear,  may  one  know?"  interrupted 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER.    119 

Fairleigh  with   disagreeable   defiance   in  his   man- 
ner. 

"  Nothing,  'pon  my  word,  but  the  words,  '  Beware 
of  Barbara  Pomeroy.'  There,  you  needn't  cut  up  rusty 
about  it ;  if  you  choose,  I'll  never  again  mention  the 
mysterious  Pomeroy.  Only  I'd  advise  you  not  to  meet 
her  in  public  parks,  if  your  meetings  are  intended 
to  be  sub  rosa  /  and,  further,  if  they  are  sub  rosa,  I'd 
suggest  the  decency  of  breaking  off  with  my  cousin, 
Miss  Ilendrick,  before  you  take  up  Miss  Pomeroy." 

Harrison  glanced  uneasily  at  the  stern  face  of  his 
friend,  and  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Bah  !  there's  nothing  in  it — a  mere  bagatelle — 
never  saw  the  young  woman  in  my  life  before ;  was 
mistaken  for  another  fellow  by  her — that's  all !  " 
cried  he,  volubly.  "  Don't  take  up  the  matter  in  that 
high-tragedy  spirit,  or  I'll  expire,  I  vow !  Come  on, 
let's  spend  the  morning  with  Katherine." 

But   as   they  walked   away,  arm-in-arm,  chatting 
merrily,  an  unwonted  cloud  lowered  on  each  brow. 
******  * 

The  wind  blew  moaiiingly  around  the  lonely  cot- 
tage at  the  foot  of  Thunder  Peak,  rattling  the  win- 
dows in  their  loose  casements,  and  whistling  drearily 
through  the  keyholes,  like  shivering  spirits  sup- 
plicating a  shelter  that  bleak  winter  night.  The 
snow  lay  knee-deep  round  the  house,  and  a  great  drift 


120    HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

ran  right  across  the  little  garden  where  the  rose  of 
Sharon,  and  the  magnolia  and  the  lily-of-the-valley 
bloomed  in  summer  time. 

In  the  wide,  old-fashioned  kitchen,  a  ruddy  fire 
flashed  and  flickered,  showing  the  snow-white  floor, 
the  empty  arm-chair,  and  the  tall  eight-day  clock 
pointing  with  stout  hand  to  the  hour  of  twelve. 

A  door  stood  wide  upon  the  kitchen,  and  now  and 
again  the  rising  flames  gave  a  glimmering  glimpse  of 
old  Richard  West's  sharp  white  face  as  it  lay  upon 
the  pillow  ; — of  his  bony  hands  toiling  ceaselessly 
upon  the  patchwork  quilt,  and  of  the  wearily  drooping 
figure  of  Mrs.  Pomeroy  seated  at  his  bedside,  with  her 
face  buried  in  her  lap. 

Midnight,  alone  with  the  dying,  in  the  depths  of 
the  forest;  the  roads  drifted  impassable;  an  old 
woman,  infirm  before  her  time  with  sorrow  and  sus- 
pense. Ah  !  that  was  a  fearful  night ! 

Yes,  Richard  West  was  dying  at  last.  Three  days 
ago  he  was  struck  with  paralysis  as  he  sat  in  his 
elbow-chair,  fiercely  denouncing  Barbara  Pomeroy 
to  her  mother  in  words  which  touched  her  writhing 

O 

heart  like  flame ;  and  now  he  was  sleeping  his  life 
away,  his  loud  and  stertorous  breathing  echoing 
through  the  hushed  house,  and  mingling  weirdly  with 
the  moan  of  the  wind  and  the  rattle  of  the  case- 
ments. 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER.    121 

No  one  had  come  near  the  house  since,  for  the 
snow-storm  had  blocked  the  roads,  and  the  nearest 
neighbor  was  miles  away  ;  the  pantry  was  empty — 
when  had  its  bare  shelves  ever  held  more  than  a  day's 
provision  at  a  time  ? — and  poor  old  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  as 
she  cowered  there,  shuddering  with  cold,  felt  faint 
and  giddy  from  the  want  of  food,  and  sometimes  doz- 
ing, sometimes  awake  and  praying,  saw  strange  vis- 
ions all  around,  and  half  thought  them  true. 

And  ever  her  husky,  half-spoken  and  half-sobb'ed 
plaint  was : 

"  Barry,  Barry,  come  back  to  me  !  O  dear  Lord  ! 
bring  Barry  back  to  me !  " 

And  at  the  strange  sound  of  her  hollow  voice  the 
airy  shapes  which  peopled  the  dim  air  would  all  float 
close  around  her,  holding  out  their  shadowy  arms, 
some  with  harps  and  some  with  crowns,  but  all  with 
the  faces  of  those  she  had  loved  and  lost  long,  long 
ago ;  friends  she  had  parted  from,  babies  she  had 
buried,-  brothers,  sisters,  husband — all  beaming  upon 
her  with  blessed  smiles  of  welcome  ! 

But  she  never  could  se*e  among  them  the  one  she 
yearned  for  most,  and  so  she  would  moan  again  : 

"  Barry,  Barry,  come  back  to  me !  O  dear  Lord  ! 
send  Barry  back  to  me ! " 

And  at  last  a  sweet,  sweet  ringing  of  bells  came  to 

her  wondering  ear,  and  she  thought ; 
0 


122    HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

"  They  are  ringing  in  heaven  for  me !  O  Barry  ! 
make  haste ! " 

And  the  kitchen-door  stole  open,  with  a  rush  of 
bitter  wind  and  a  drift  of  needle-sharp  snow ;  and, 
lifting  her  heavy  head,  she  saw — oh,  wonderful  vision ! 
— a  tiny  woman  form,  with  face  as  angelic  as  face 
might  be,  and  long,  loose,  bright  hair  blown  back  like 
a  golden  halo,  and  misty  blue  eyes  brimming  with 
tears — standing  in  the  doorway,  looking  in. 

"But  when  she  saw  that  it  was  not  Barry  yet,  the 
weary  mother  moaned,  weeping  : 

"  Barry,  Barry,  come  back  to  me !  O  dear  Lord ! 
bring  Barry  back  to  me  !  " 

And  a  human  voice  said,  brokenly : 

"Just  listen  to  this,  Dr.  Wayne!  Oh,  come  in 
quick ! " 

And  the  little  figure  ran  across  the  glimmering 
kitchen,  and  flung  its  arms,  all  snow-clad  as  they  were, 
about  the  trembling  old  woman,  murmuring  over  and 
over  again  in  her  gradually  deafening  ear : 

"  The  dear  Lord  has  sent  me  instead  of  your  Barry 
to  look  after  you,  and  to  give  you  news  of  her ! " 

So,  when  the  mother  heard  that,  her  joy  struck  her 
senseless  in  little  Barb's  faithful  arms. 

****** 

A  gala  night  at  Baron  Hendrick's. 

Have  we  told  von  how  Bernard  Hendrick  obtained 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER     123 

his  title  1  Hush  !  it  is  one  of  the  on  dits  only  whis- 
pered— true,  though,  as  the  Ten  Commandments. 
Bernard  Hendrick  began  life  as  a  tutor  in  private 
families ;  rose  to  be  travelling  tutor  to  a  German  gen- 
tleman of  distinction ;  continued  to  rise  until  his 
charge  was  an  archduke  ;  learned  some  shady  secret 
of  his  patron's ;  traded  upon  it  so  successfully  that 
but  two  alternatives  arrayed  themselves  before  the 
illustrious  victim — disgrace,  or  a  title  for  his  aspiring 
instructor.  And  so — Baron  Hendrick  retired  to  New 
York,  a  made  man ! 

Everybody  likes  to  be  asked  to  the  baroness's  re- 
ceptions ;  but  catch  her  ask  any  but  the  very  top  of 
the  cream  of  good  society !  Still,  to-night  the  whole 
street  is  made  lively  by  the  roll  of  carriages  and  the 
continuous  bang  of  unfolding  carriage-steps,  and  re- 
verberating double-knocks  at  the  baron's  grand  en- 
trance. 

Quite  a  crowd  of  street  Arabs  and  sewing-girls  have 
collected,  intent  on  enjoying  their  part  of  the  spec- 
tacle, that  is,  the  passing  of  wondrously  habited  ladies 
and  gentlemen  over  the  velvet  carpet  spread  under 
an  awning  from  the  curbstone  to  the  marble  steps. 

The  baroness  is  giving  a  fancy  ball  on  the  eve  of 
her  daughter's  marriage ;  it  is  Miss  Hendrick's  last 
appearance,  and  brilliant  indeed  is  the  assembly 
gathered  to  do  her  honor. 


124    HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

Statesmen,  poets,  literary  stars,  princes  (of  the 
purse,  not  of  the  blood),  notables  of  every  species ; 
iu  they  pass,  with  their  ladies  on  their  arms,  a  con- 
stant stream  of  fantastic  figures. 

The  usual  magnificence  of  appointment  awaits  the 
brilliant  throng  inside ;  the  usual  concourse  of  gay, 
grotesque,  and  majestic  figures  incident  to  a  bal  de 
fantaii<ie,  fills,  the  baron's  halls ;  the  usual  grand  re- 
ception by  the  host  and  hostess,  under  a  perfect  arcade 
of  flowers  ;  the  usual  soft,  entrancing  strains  of  or- 
chestral music,  furnishing  a  delicate  accompaniment 
to  the  hum  of  the  masquer's  voices. 

There  are  many  distinguished  toilets  there,  at  which 
all  eyes  glance  with  admiration,  while  numerous 
guesses  at  the  identity  of  the  wearers  pass  from  lip 
to  lip.  But  the  two  who  are  entering  the  grand  draw- 
ing-room by  different  doors  at  this  moment,  elicit  a 
murmur  of  applause  which  not  even  the  general  hum 
and  the  sound  of  the  distant  music  can  cover. 

Who  that  has  visited  Booth's  Theatre  during  the 
winter  of  1875  can  fail  to  recognize  that  tall,  queenly 
figure,  clad  in  white  satin,  seeded  with  diamonds, 
with  court-train  of  brilliant  green  velvet  and  roval 
cloak  of  purple  edged  with  ermine — with  Britannia's 
crown  upon  her  red-brown  locks,  and  Britannia's 
sceptre  in  her  slender  hand  ? 

Or  that  gliding  figure  entering  at  the  opposite  door 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER.    125 

in  long,  limp  robes  of  white,  with  rich  dark  hair  dis- 
hevelled, and  trailing  dark  cloak,  half  enshrouding 
her  white  form  as  she  advances  with  unsteady  gait 
and  drooping  attitude  ? 

QOEEN  ELIZABETH  and  AMY  ROBSAKT! 

The  murmur  grew  to  a  perfect  round  of  applause, 
as  the  two  masquers  advanced  to  meet  each  other — 
Queen  Elizabeth,  with  quick  and  haughty  step — Amy 
Ilobsart  slowly,  tremblingly. 

The  group  of  cavaliers,  attired  in  the  rich  old  Eng- 
lish garb,  who  accompanied  her  Majesty,  hurried 
after  her,  uttering  audible  exclamations  of  surprise  at 
the  apparition  of  the  injured  Amy.  One  of  them, 
on  whose  arm  she  had  entered,  said,  nervously  ^ 

"  Now,  who  is  this  that  has  guessed  your  Majesty's 
intention  to  appear  to-night  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Leicester ! "  said  the  queen  between  her 
teeth,  "  we  fear  thou  knowest  too  well !  " 

They  met.  With  one  accord  the  throng  stood 
silent,  looking  on  with  amused  interest. 

Amy  Ilobsart  knelt  at  Queen  Elizabeth's  feet,  and 
throwing  back  her  cloak,  revealed  the  sumptuous 
arms  and  shoulders  of  a  Juno. 

"Justice!  justice,  your  Majesty!"  she  cried  in 
ringing  accents ;  and  at  that  cry  there  was  a  stir  in 
the  throng,  and  an  aged  Mother  Superior,  leaning  on 
the  shoulder  of  a  white-veiled  nun,  pushed  their  way 


126    HANDS  TEAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

almost  into  the  clear  space  occupied  by  the  queen 
and  her  train.  "My  lover  has  forsaken  me  in  order 
to  marry  a  richer  lady  than  I.  Justice,  O  Queen ! 
Command  him  to  return  to  me  !  " 

The  slight,  proud  figure  of  her  majesty  towered 
over  the  suppliant  in  such  a  menacing  attitude,  and 
with  such  a  visible  quiver  running  through  it,  that 
the  startled  interest  with  which  all  had  listened  to 
the  pathetic — nay,  the  anguished — accents  of  Amy 
Hobsart,  deepened  into  speechless  wonder ;  and  when 
the  queen  burst  forth  with  a  shrill  cry  of  wrath,  fol- 
lowed by  a  torrent  of  furious  words,  not  a  rustle 
could  be  heard  in  the  great  reception-room. 

"  Aj !  And  who  art  thou  ? "  cried  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, touching  the  kneeling  maiden  writh  her  satin 
slipper,  with  a  gesture  so  bitterly  disdainful  that  con- 
sternation seized  the  onlookers.  "  And  what  dost 
thou  here,  thou  insolent  country  wench,  with  thy 
shameless  tears  and  supplications?  What  do  we 
know  of  thy  faithless  gallant?  If  thou  hadst  not  wit 
enough  to  keep  him,  how  darest  thou  bring  thy  'plaint 
to  us  ?  Can  we  turn  men's  hearts  to  that  which  is 
beneath  them  ? " 

"  Be  patient,  your  Majesty,"  murmured  the  cour- 
tier beside  her ;  "  this  is  but  a  mummery  to  make 
you  smile.  The  maiden  does  but  jest.  Command 
me  to  lead  her  aside." 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER.    127 

"Does  she  but  jest?"  cried  the  queen,  looking  at 
him  fiercely,  if  her  small  clenched  hands  and  quiver- 
ing tones  indicated  her  mood  aright.  "Methinks  we 
see  some  meaning  in  her  jesting  neither  palatable  to 
us  nor  safe  for  her  and  tliee." 

"  Your  Majesty  is  cruel !  "  murmured  Leicester, 
with  such  well-dissembled  perturbation  that  one 
might  swear  the  farce  was  all  reality.  "  Why  should 
your  Majesty  connect  this  suppliant  with  me?" 

"  O  Leicester !  Leicester !  Dost  thou  think  us 
blind  and  deaf  ? "  cried  she,  in  rising  fury.  "  Have 
we  no  eyes  to  note  the  frequent  absences  of  our  tru- 
ant knight  ?  Have  we  no  ears  to  hear  the.  rumors 
of  his  constant  intrigues  with  milking-maids  and  such 
like  mud-made  deities?" 

At  this  the  kneeling  Amy  Robsart  raised  her  head, 
and,  in  spite  of  her  mask,  the  blaze  of  her  eyes  was 
seen  and  marvelled  at  by  many  of  the  baron's  guests. 

"  One  word,  your  Majesty,"  said  she,  in  a  choked 
voice.  "  My  lover,  who  has  deserted  me,  still  holds  me 
in  his  heart,  and  deems  me  nobler  far  than  the 
proudest  and  richest  lady  in  the  land  !  " 

"  Maid,  thou  art  mad  !  "  interposed  Leicester,  in  a 
horrified  tone,  and  stooping,  he  seized  her  by  the  arm 
to  drag  her,  unbidden,  from  the  royal  presence. 

"  Ha,  traitor !  Dost  thou  forestall  our  com- 
mands !  "  uttered  the  queen,  furiously  ;  and,  with  a 


128    HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

spring,  she  seized  Amy  by  the  other  arm,  hissing 
out: 

"  Speak  the  truth !     Is  this  man  your  lover  ?  " 

There  was  an  instant's  deep  hush,  for  now  there 
was  not  one  in  the  room  who  was  not  convinced  this 
was  a  drama  in  real  life,  and  no  preconcerted  piece 
of  acting ;  but  in  that  instant  a  new  character  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene. 

The  bent,  black-draped  figure  of  the  Mother  Su- 
perior came  forward  trembling ;  with  one  wrinkled 
hand  she  held  back  her  shrouding  vail,  and  the  other 
she  placed  on  Amy  Hobsart's  head. 

" My  daughter  /"  said  she,  in  tones  that  thrilled 
every  heart  that  had  a  spark  of  human  pity  in  it. 

Amy  Robsart  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  shriek  that 
rang  out  wildly  and  terribly  in  the  intense  stillness, 
shaking  off  the  hands  of  the  queen  and  Leicester  as 
she  did  so.  For  a  few  moments  she  gazed  as  if  trans- 
fixed into  the  worn,  deathly-pale  face  of  the  old 
woman,  whose  features  worked  with  convulsive  emo- 
tion, then  she  flashed  round  upon  Leicester  and  looked 
upon  him  in  the  same  breathless  way,  then  upon 
Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  looking  on  in  an  attitude 
of  haughty  disdain. 

And  when  her  eyes  met  hers,  Amy  Robsart  burst 
into  a  peal  of  taunting  laughter. 

"  My  Lord  Leicester  was  right,"  said  she,  "this  was 


HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER.   129 

but  a  jest — a  play  meaning  nothing,  I  have  no  lover ; 
'twas  but  a  device  to  escape  the  convent,  to  which 
this  holy  abbess  would  consign  me." 

Uttering  these  words,  she  was  turning  away  with  a 
laughing  reverence,  when  again  the  feeble  and  tremu- 
lous voice  of  the  old  woman  was  heard  : 

"  Oh,  Barbara  Pomeroy,  come  back  to  me  !  " 

Leicester  uttered  an  audible  hiss,  an  execration 
bitten  in  the  middle,  and  made  a  stride  forward,  but 
at  that  moment  the  little  nun  ran  to  her,  saying,  with 
urgent  entreaty : 

"  Here  I  am,  dear  mother !  Here  I  am !  Let 
these  gay  folks  go.  Barbara  Pomeroy  will  never  for- 
sake thee." 

Still  the  old  woman  stood  with  one  hand  stretched 
toward  Amy  Robsart,  who,  leaning  lightly  upon  the 
arm  which  Leicester  had  offered  her,  with  an  impe- 
rious gesture,  exclaimed,  audibly  : 

"  Excellently  well  acted  !  Only  the  holy  mother 
mistakes  me  for  some  one  else,"  and  with  this  she 
obeyed  the  urgent  movement  of  Leicester,  and  swept 
awav  with  him,  laughing  and  chatting. 

The  Mother  Superior  gazed  after  her  with  such  an 
anguished  and  despairing  wonder,  that  again  that 
ungovernable  thrill  ran  through  all  hearts ;  paler  and 
paler  she  grew,  till,'with  great  tears  coursing  down 
her  withered  cheeks,  and  her  poor  faded  lips  quiver- 


130  HANDS  THAT  WOULD  HAVE  SAVED  HER. 

ing  convulsively — enough  to  wring  the  heart  of 
Nero — she  sank  back  in  the  young  nun's  arms  in 
swoon. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  LONG  WAY  ON  HEK  CHOSEN  PATH. 

K 

'EICESTER  hurried  Amy  Robsart  through 
salon  and  corridor,  until  he  found  a  deserted 
parlor  in  the  upper  story,  where,  the  gas 
turned  down  and  the  furniture  in  some  confusion,  it 
was  evident  that  no  guests  were  expected  to  in- 
trude. 

He  locked  the  door,  turned  on  the  gas,  tore  off  his 
mask,  and  confronted  Amy,  who,  with  her  mask  also 
in  her  hand,  stood  in  defiant  silence,  awaiting  his 
pleasure. 

"  Barry,  how  dared  you !  "  hissed  Harrison  Fair- 
leigh,  scowling  like  a  demon. 

"  Now,  now,  what  have  I  done  next  ? "  cried  she, 
flashing  her  bewildering  eyes  at  him,  and  pouting 
most  alluringly. 

But  he  was  neither  to  be  glamoured  nor  tempted 
yet. 

"  Are  you  bent  on  ruining  me  \ "  muttered  he 


132      A  LONG  WAY  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH. 

"  Oh  !  ha,  ha  !  No,  Harrison — oh,  no  !  "  lauglied 
she,  wildly. 

"You — yon  Jezebel,  I  sometimes  think  you  capa- 
ble of  murdering  me  in  some  of  your  mad  moods  !  " 
exclaimed  the  young  blood,  staring  at  his  uncanny 
prize  in  some  anxiety.  "What  could  have  possessed 
you  to  wear  that  dress,  of  all  dresses  in  the  world, 
when  you  knew  that  Katherine  was  dressing  as 
Queen  Elizabeth,  and  insisted  on  me  appearing  as 
Leicester  ? " 

"  Wasn't  it  a  bright  idea,  and  so  naturally  acted !  " 
exclaimed  Barry,  with  a  fearful  gusto.  "  Once  I 
thought  she  was  going  to  strike  me.  O — h !  how 
jealous  she  is  of  me  !  "  and  her  eyes  shone  like  two 
diamonds. 

"  Barry,"  quoth  the  too  irresistible  gallant,  not  ill- 
pleased,  "  you've  no  business  to  make  her  so  jealous. 
You're  always  at  it.  I  believe  there  will  be  some 
mis'chief  yet  between  you,  for  Katherine  is  just  as 
much  in  love  with  me  as  you  are." 

And  he  stroked  his  elegant  mustache  with  consid- 
erable complacency,  feeling  inclined  to  chuckle  over 
the  infatuation  of  the  two  finest  women  he  had  ever 
yet  seen. 

"  But  you  ar'n't  as  much  in  love  with  her  as  you 
are  with  me,"  retorted  Barry,  her  full  lips  wreathed 
with  a  reckless  smile.  "  You  are  always  bored  with 


A  LONG   WAT  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH.       133 

her ;  you  are  never,  never  with  me  !  Are  you  now, 
Harrison  ?"  and  she  leaned  toward  him  in  a  perfect 
abandon  of  Delilah-like  witchery. 

"  Xever !  "  breathed  the  man,  yielding  himself  up 
wholly  to  her  spell.  "  You  make  me  forget  every- 
thing in  the  universe  but  yourself.  Oh,  Barry,  I 
don't  think  I  can  give  you  up !  " 

"  Nor  I  you ! "  responded  she,  with  a  passionate 
intensity.  "  I  love — I  love — I  love  you  !  I  want  no 
happiness  but  you  ;  I  want  no  life  unshared  with  you  ! 
The  day  you  give  me  up  for  her,  I  swear  1  will  not 
outlive  it ! " 

"  Ilnsh !  hush  ! "  cried  he,  in  horror.  "  You  cur- 
dle my  blood.  You  would  not  give  me  that  agony 
to  bear  through  life  ?  Barry,  speak!  Don't  look  at 
me  in  that  awf  nl  way  !  Do  you  intend  to  take  revenge 
upon  me  by  killing  yourself  and  leaving  me  to  die  of 
remorse  ? " 

"  Xo,"  smiled  Barry ;  and  then  she  hid  her  too 
expressive  face  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a  little  shiver 
crept  through  her.  She  looked  up  anon,  blanched 
and  solemn. 

"  Harrison,"  said  she,  in  a  hard  voice,  "  you've  made 
a  terrible  wreck  of  me.  1  used  to  be  a  good  girl,  as 
far  as  high  principles  and  truthfulness  were  concerned. 
That  was  before  I  knew  you.  Look  at  me  now !  For 
your  sake  I  have  denied  my  own  mother ! " 


134      A  LONG  WAT  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH. 

She  hid  her  face  again,  shuddering  convulsively. 
Harrison  glared. 

"  Great  Heaven  !  "  muttered  he,  recoiling,  "  was 
that  old  woman  actually  your  mother?  And — and 
• — you  could  pass  her  without  acknowledging  her ! 
Why,  Barbara,  you've  acted  like  a  monster !  I 
thought  that  part,  at  least,  was  all  farce ;  but — her 
poor  old  mother  came  to  take  her  home,  and  she  denied 
that  she  knew  her !  Oh,  you  miserable  girl,  after  that 
you'd  do  anything  !  " 

"  Yes,  anything ! "  hissed  Barry  on  his  breast.  "  Talk 
of  moral  deterioration !  Here  it  is — innocence  and 
truth  transformed  into  imposture  and  brutal  cruelty  ! 
Here  it  is !  "  and  she  beat  her  breast  with  her  clenched 
hand,  looking  heavenward  writh  a  wild,  defiant  smile 
carved  upon  her  bloodless  lips. 

Harrison  Fairleigh  felt  a  stab  of  conscience  for 
the  first  time  in  regard  to  his  dealings  with  this  girl. 
Well  he  knew  the  tender  bloom  of  that  purity  M'hich 
he  had  brushed  off  her  character  with  his  base  love ; 
it  had  been  the  charm  which  first  enslaved  him.  It 
was  gone  now,  and  in  its  place  had  come  a  wild  de- 
moniac fascination  which  charmed  him  yet  more  with 
its  subtle  spell ;  but,  alas !  look  close,  and  how  black 
was  the  spirit  which  had  been  so  radiant  in  its  guile- 
less simplicity ! 

Yes,  for  once  conscience  spoke  to  Harrison  Fair- 


A  LONG  WAY  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH.       135 

leigh  in  whispers  which  stabbed  him  with  stinging 
pain.  And  because  he  acknowledged  that  this  sadly 
erring  woman  was  the  creature  of  his  own  making, 
lie  yielded  yet  more  wholly  to  her  royal  sway,  dimly 
dreaming  of  compensation. 

lie  gathered  her  back  to  his  heart — he  had  never 
in  his  life  held  Katherine  there — and  he  smoothed 
back  her  rich,  unbound  tresses  with  tender  hand. 

"  My  poor  Barry !  "  murmured  he  with  a  break  in 
his  voice,  "  I've  been  bul  a  curse  to  you  ever  since 
you  knew  me.  J^o  use  now  to  regret  the  part  I've 
played — regrets  are  but  mockery.  Guiltless  as  we 
are,  in  one  respect,  we  are  traitors  to  Katherine  Hen- 
drick  in  our  hearts.  I  am  as  bad,  I  am  worse  than 
you  are,  for  it  was  I  who  wooed  and  wooed  your  unsus- 
picious love,  only  to  madden  you  with  the  sight  of  it 
lying  sullied  under  my  feet  when  won.  On  my  head 
lies  the  guilt  of  your  deterioration  ;  for  my  sake  you 
have  become  what  you  are.  Oh,  my  poor,  poor  girl, 
what  can  I  do  now  but  crown  my  madness  by  one 
last  act  which  will  make  the  world  ring  with  derisive 
laughter  ? — and  let  it  ring !  " 

"  You  mean  —  "  panted  Barry,  a  flame  on  each 
cheek — her  eyes  abla-ze. 

He  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  whispered  what  he 
meant  in  her  tingling  ear ! 

****** 


136      A  LONG  WAY  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH. 

Meanwhile  the  excitement  caused  in  the  drawing- 
room  by  the  brilliantly-acted  episode  of  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth and  Amy  Robsart,  was  forgotten  in  the  arrival 
of  some  specially  illustrious  guests,  and  when  the 
baroness  had  again  leisure  to  turn  her  jewelled  eye- 
glass upon  the  spot  where  she  had  last  seen  the 
fainting  Mother  Superior  being  lifted  in  the  arms  of 
several  of  the  gentlemen,  Amy  Robsart  and  Leices- 
ter sweeping  out  at  the  door  arm-in-arm,  and  Queen 
Elizabeth  standing  among  her  courtiers  as  if  struck  tc 
stone,  not  one  of  the  actors  of  the  late  scene  was  vis/ole 

The  baroness  was  decidedly  ill-pleased. 

What  was  the  meaning  of  that  horribly  natural 
delineation  of  jealousy  and  fury  ?  Why  had  Ivathe- 
rine  seemed  so  uncomfortably  in  earnest  ?  And  who 
was  this  who  had  appeared  in  the  character  of  Amy 
Robsart,  ruffling  Katherine's  imperious  and  jealous 
temper  almost  to  the  point  of  a  disgraceful  exhibi- 
tion ?  Then  who  was  the  mysterious  old  lady  whose 
feelings  had  overcome  her  so  inopportunely,  and  the 
young  nun  who  had  supported  her  ?  Not  guests  in- 
vited by  her  she  could  have  sworn.  She  summoned 
a  gentleman,  and  on  his  arm  made  the  tour  of  all  her 
apartments,  with  the  determination  of  solving  these 
successive  mysteries,  and  with  but  poor  success. 
Not  a  trace  could  she  discover  of  Leicester,  whom  she 
knew  to  be  her  daughter's  fiance,  or  of  his  companion, 


'    A  LONG  WAY  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH.       137 

Amy  Robsart.  The  Mother  Superior  and  the  nun 
had  vanished  as  mysteriously  as  they  had  appeared, 
and  she  could  only  find  Katherine,  lying  on  the  carpet 
in  her  own  dressing-room,  her  laces  torn,  her  dress  dis- 
ordered, and  the  foam  of  an  ungovernable  fury  upon 
her  bitten,  bleeding  lips. 

Madame  the  baroness  whipped  the  door  shut  just 
in  time  to  prevent  the  Austrian  Minister,  who  had 
escorted  her  thither,  from  witnessing  this  appalling 
spectacle. 

"  Katherine !  Katherine !  rise  instantly,  I  com- 
mand you  !  "  exclaimed  she,  hurrying  to  the  pros- 
trate form,  and  endeavoring  by  main  strength  to  drag 
her  from  the  floor. 

Katherine  shook  her  off,  uttering  only  a  growl  like 
a  young  tigress,  and  burying  her  face  in  the  thick, 
soft  carpet. 

Baroness  Ilendrick  glared  aghast,  her  empurpled 
visage  paling ;  then  she  threw  her  massive  form  into 
the  nearest  chair,  and  applied  her  diamond-encrusted 
vinaigrette  to  her  nostrils. 

Horrors !  Here  was  Katherine  in  one  of  her 
tempers,  three  hundred  people  congregated  down- 
stairs to  witness  her  conquests  and  triumphs  for  the 
last  time  before  she  married  the  wealthy  'Harrison 
Fairleigh,  best  parti  of  the  season.  What  was  to 
be  done  ? 


138       A  LONG  WAY  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH. 

She  invoked  all  her  gods  to  help  her  in  this  dire 
strait,  and  began  in  the  supplicatory  vein: 

"  Dear  child,  be  calm !  compose  yourself,  for  m^ 
sake — for  all  our  sakes !  What  will  they  think 
downstairs?" 

"  "  Think !  "  shrieked  Katherine,  shrilly,  rising  to 
her  knees,  with  convulsed  face  and  rich  hair  stream- 
ing where  she  had  torn  it  down  with  reckless  hands. 
"  Let  them  think  the  truth — that  I  am  defied  and 
taunted  in  my  own  father's  house  by  my  bridegroom's 
latest  conquest,  Marah  Leith ! "  and  she  sprang  to 
her  feet,  her  magnificent  robes  floating  wide  around 
her,  and,  gritting  her  teeth  and  tearing  herjiair,  she 
passed  in  rapid  haste  to  and  fro,  her  ungovernable 
passion  and  haughty  beauty  lending  her  no  small 
resemblance  to  some  insulted  queen. 

The  baroness  tried  the  soothing  vein. 

"  Marah  Leith !  Nonsense !  You  insult  yourself 
by  putting  yourself  in  the  same  category  with  her ! 
And  how  do  you  know  she  was  Marah  Leith  ? " 

"  Know  her  !  I  would  know  her  among  ten  thou- 
sand !  "  cried  Katherine,  stopping  to  grind  her  slen- 
der, satin  slipper  into  the  carpet.  "  The  wretch ! 
don't  you  see  how  she  lures  and  wiles  him  on  to 
neglect  me  and  lavish  all  his  attentions  upon  her? 
Have  you  not  always  seen  this  from  the  first  day  we 
met  them  walking  together  ?  Oh ! "  screamed  Kathe- 


A  LONG  WAT  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH.       139 

rine,  wringing  her  hands,  "  what  does  he  care  for 
me  beside  her,  with  her  daring,  demoniac  beauty — 
the  base  vagrant,  whom  nobody  ever  heard  of  till 
his  idiot  mother  picked  her  up  from  some  charitable 
asylum  !  Nothing — nothing  !  Oh,  mother,  I  could 
shoot  them  both  as  they  gaze  into  each  other's  eyes 
in  my  very  presence  !  I  could  laugh  to  see  the  blood 
flow  from  their  treacherous  hearts  !  " 

"  Don't  rave  now,  you'll  only  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self to-morrow ! "  urged  the  mother,  who,  accustomed 
to  the  various  moods  of  her  high-spirited  daughter, 
seldom  felt  any  alarm,  except,  as  in  the  present  in- 
stance, when  exposure  seemed  to  threaten  her. 
"  Think  a  minute  how  tame  it  would  be  to  lose  such 
a  match  on  account  of  a  nobodjr,  as  you  justly  call 
her." 

Katherine's  delicate  face  kindled  up  with  indomit- 
able resolution. 

"Lose  him!  Ah,  no,  I  shall  not  lose  him!"  said 
she,  with  a  fierce  quiver  in  her  soft  tones.  "  You  are 
wise  to  remind  me ;  an  exhibition  of  jealousy  would 
only  drive  him  from  me  ;  his  heart  is  in  the  balance ; 
one  foolish  word  and  look  from  me  and  she  will  win 
it  and  him!  Mother,  I  am  calm;  help  me  here, 
where  is  my  crown  !  Ah  !  how  ghastly  white  I  am  ! " 

She  gazed  mournfully  at  herself  in  the  great  mir- 
ror, then  seized  a  rouge-box  and  dashed  some  living 


140      A  LONG  WAY  ON  HER  CHOSEN  PATH. 

color  on  her  bloodless  face,  and  called  a  faint  smile 
to  her  quivering  lips.  Meanwhile,  the  baroness,  with 
much  secret  thanksgiving,  rearranged  her  toilette  with 
anxious  care,  doing  her  best  in  passing  to  soothe  her 
agitation  and  infuse  as  much  pride  and  defiance  into 
her  mind  as  should  support  her  through  the  rest  of 
the  evening.  * 

Quarter  of  an  hour  afterward  Queen  Elizabeth, 
sailing  into  the  dancing-hall  on  the  arm  of  an  incon- 
ceivably grotesque  satyr,  beheld  Leicester  leaning  with 
folded  arms  and  moody  attitude  against  a  pillar.  She 
flashed  a  lightning  glance  round  the  hall  for  Amy 
Robsart,  but  her  scrutiny  was  interrupted  by  the  ap- 
proach of  a  magnificent  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  who, 
making  a  splendid  court  bow,  said,  in  Marah  Leith's 
voice : 

"And  do  we  at  last  meet  our  royal  sister  on  com- 
mon ground  ?  We  salute  thee,  Virgin  Queen,  mis- 
tress of  legions — wife  to  none !  " 

"And  we  salute  thee,  unhappy  Queen!"  retorted 
Katherine.  "  We  read  thy  dire  future,  when, 
stripped  of  youth  and  flatterers,  thou  shalt  pine  alone 
and  die  detested !  " 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAT. 

& 

)OOR  little  Barb,  how  bitterly  she  wept  as,  with 
Mrs.  Pomeroy  lying  insensible  in  the  corner  of 
the  carriage,  and  one  of  the  gentlemen  who 
had  assisted  to  carry  her  oat  of  the  baron's  house  sup- 
porting her  heavy  head,  she  returned  to  her  quiet 
boarding-house  defeated,  heartbroken  ! 

She  had  been  so  sure  that  Barry  had  but  to  see  her 
mother  to  melt  and  fly  to  her  breast ;  and,  lo !  what 
unutterable  cruelty  had  she  discovered  in  Barry's 
heart !  She  had  turned  with  a  lying  laugh  from  the 
mother  who  had  stretched  out  her  yearning  hands  to 
her ;  from  the  mother  whose  hair  was  whiter,  whose 
face  was  more  furrowed,  whose  form  was  more  bent 
because  of  her  desertion  ! 

Yes,  fond  little  Barb's  cherished  plan  had  failed 
•miserably,  after  all  the  trouble  she  had  been  at  to 
carry  it  into  effect. 

She  had  nursed  Mrs.  Pomeroy  back  to  a  remnant  of 


142  THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY. 

her  once  vigorous  strength — she  and  patient  Hugh 
Wayne.  In  the  interim  Richard  West  had  passed 
away  and  been  buried  in  the  frozen  ground — no 
harder  than  his  granite  heart — and  no  hoarded  treas- 
ure nor  any  will  having  been  discovered,  the  house 
and  farm  were  put  up  for  sale. 

Then  Barb  and  Hugh  had  brought  Mrs.  Pomeroy 
to  New  York,  and  Barb  had  for  the  last  time  im- 
plored Barry  to  leave  her  life  of  imposture  and  re 
turn  to  her  mother,  only  to  be  icily  bidden  to  hold 
her  peace,  or  see  herself  the  cause  of  such  fearful 
doings  as  should  make  her  ears  tingle  when  she  heard 
them. 

"  There  is  but  one  chance  more,"  thought  devoted 
Barb.  "  If  she  knew  what  I  had  done  she  would 
never  let  her  mother  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing' 
her.  I  will  bring  them  face  to  face  at  the  fancy  ball 
at  Baroness  Hend rick's  ;  her  natural  feelings  will  be 
touched  at  last,  and  before  them  all  she  will  confess 
her'deceit  and  repent  of  it." 

This  experiment  failing,  what  hindered  Barb  from 
declaring  the  truth  before  them  all,  with  her  own  lips? 

There  is  one  bright  gem  which  the  lowliest  may 
possess  as  well  as  the  noblest,  and  that  is — honor. 

Barry  had  confided  her  history  to  Barb.  Barb 
would  die  before  she  would  betray  her  confidence. 

No,  Barb  could  never  expose  her  erring  friend  ; 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAT.    143 

she  might  warn  her  and  others  ;  she  might  try  in  her 
simple  way  to  combine  circumstances  so  as  to  force 
Barry  to  confess  and  repent ;  but  to  betray  her  never 
once  occurred  to  that  loyal  soul. 

And  what  now  was  to  be  done  ? 

Look  at  the  stricken  mother,  but  lately  drawn  back 
from  the  yawning  grave  for  this  cruel  blow  to  be 
struck  at  her  by  her  Barry's  hand  ! 

Barb's  sorrowful  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the 
voice  of  the  baroness's  guest,  a  handsome,  dark-haired 
young  gentleman,  whose  rich  violet  velvet  doublet 
and  glittering  orders  were  but  half  concealed  beneath 
his  ample  cloak.  He  had  been  one  of  the  courtiers 
in  Queen  Elizabeth's  train. 

"  Young  lady,"  said  he,  leaning  forward  to  gaze 
curiously  into  her  tear-wet  face,  "have  I  not  seen 
you  once  before?  Is  not  your  name  Barbara 
Pomeroy  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barb,  timidly.  "  Where  do  you 
think  you  have  seen  me  ?  " 

The  gentleman's  handsome  face  seemed  very  cold 
and  stern  by  the  glimmering  light  of  the  carriage 
lamps,  as  he  replied,  briefly  : 

"  In  Madison  Park,  a  fortnight  since,  talking  to 
]\Ir.  Harrison  Fairleigh." 

Barb  started  perceptibly,  and  returned  his  piercing 
gaze  in  silent  agitation. 


144   THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY. 

"Miss  Pomeroy,  I  wish  to  be  frank  with  you," 
said  he,  in  an  authoritative  manner,  which  almost 
took  her  breath  away.  "  Mr.  Fairleigh  is  to  be  mar- 
ried to  Miss  Hendrick  in  ten  days.  I  am  Miss  Ilen- 
drick's  cousin,  and  I  have  a  right  to  ask  this  question. 
Have  you  any  claim  upon  Mr.  Fairleigh  ? " 

Barb,  just  about  to  exclaim,  indignantly,  "  No !" 
paused  in  bewilderment.  A  host  of  future  possibili- 
ties rushed  into  her  mind.  Should  she  disclaim  all 
knowledge  of  Harrison  Fairleigh,  how  could  she 
account  for  the  conversation  which  this  gentleman 
had  doubtless  overheard  pass  between  her  and  Barry's 
selfish  lover  ?  His  suspicions  would  inevitably  point 
at  Marah  Leith — the  other  Barbara  Pomeroy ;  his 
interference  might  hurry  Barry  on  to  the  execution  of 
her  mysterious  purpose.  No  wonder  the  little  sewing- 
girl  hesitated! 

"  Very  good,  madam,"  quoth  the  gentleman,  be- 
tween his  teeth,  "your  silence  answers  me.  I  shall 
now  know  how  to  deal. with  Mr.  Fairleigh;  and  if 
you  would  like  to  communicate  any  particulars  to  me 
in  future,  this  is  my  name  and  address." 

He  put  his  card  into  her  hand,  and  as  he  did  so 
the  carriage  stopped  before  the  door  of  Barb's  board- 
ing-house, and  a  young  man  hurried  out. 

"  Has  she  come  ? "  asked  he,  eagerly,  as  he  dashed 
open  the  door. 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY.   145 

One  glance  at  the  occupants  of  the  carriage,  and 
he  turned  aside  with  a  groan. 

Only  for  a  moment  though  ;  the  next  he  was  help- 
ing the  gentleman  to  carry  the  inert  form  of  Mrs.  - 
Pomeroy  into  the  house. 

When  Hugh  Wayne  was  on  his  knees  beside  Mrs. 
Pomeroy  trying  to  restore  her,  and  the  stranger  was 
gone,  and  there  was  nothing  now  to  do  but  wait  and 
weep,  Barb  looked  at  the  card. 

On  it  she  read  this : 

"LIONEL  KOSCOE, 

"  Combe- Roscoe, 

"  Devon. 
"Fifth  Avenue  Hotel." 

******* 
ISText  morning  Barb  sat  by  Barry's  bed  telling  her 
all  this,  and  imploring  her  to  fly  before  she  brought 
shame  and  misery  upon  all  who  knew  her  and  Har- 
rison Fairleigh. 

"  And  your  mother — oh,  she  has  never  spoken  since 
you  turned  your  back  on  her !  "  wept  Barb.  "  She 
lies  there  so  pale  and  strange — it  kills  me  to  watch 
her  !  Come  to  her,  Barry- — Barry! " 

And  Barbara,  like  one  possessed  with  a  devil^ 
rose  on  ner  elbow  in  her  dainty  couch,  and  an- 
swered, with  the  shiver  of  delirious  laughter; 


146   THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAT. 

"  By-and-by,  Barb ! — by-and-by  !  And  you  have 
brought  Dr.  Hugh  Wayne,  too.  have  you  ?  to  track  me 
down  !  Poor  Hugh,  he's  made  of  different  stuff  than 
Harrison  Fairleigh  ;  they  make  saints  out  of  such  stuff." 

"  Come  home,  Barry — end  it  all,  my  dear,  this 
morning! " 

"  And  Lionel  Koscoe  is  on  the  trail,  and  the  baron- 
ess and  you  !  Heavens,  they  won't  give  me  time  !  " 
muttered  Barry,  rending  her  long  purple-black 
tresses  with  savage  hand.  "  Barb,  I  want  to  think  of 
this,"  said  she,  turning  abruptly  to  her  with  a  start- 
ling change  of  manner — so  soft  her  tone,  so  gentle 
her  smile,  that  Barb's  hopes  rose.  "  Give  me  the 
day — give  me  till  this  time  to-morrow  morning  to 
consider — but  mind,  Hugh  Wayne  must  go  back  to 
Rensselaer's  Landing,  and  never  dare  to  meddle  in 
my  affairs.  He  must  go  to-day.  I  can't  see  my 
mother  till  he  is  gone.  Tell  him  that,  will  you  ? 
And  now,  child,  leave  me — don't — don't  touch  me ! " 

Her  vehement  words  rose  to  a  muffled  scream,  as 
Barb  in  her  gladness  attempted  to  take  her  burning 
hand. 

So  little  Barb  left  her,  with  a  backward  look  of 
love  and  pity  which  an  angel  might  copy. 

Barb  sat  alone  by  the  bed  of  Mrs.  Pomeroy  some- 
where between  midnight  and  the  morning  following 
that  eventful  day.  Hugh  had  received  Barry's  mes- 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY.   147 

sage,  and  was  gone ;  and  the  unhappy  mother  had 
been  told  with  anxious  carefulness  to  expect  her 
daughter's  return  any  hour  of  the  twenty-four;  so 
she  had  not  closed  her  eyes  since. 

It  was  very  still  outside  and  in.  Barb's  boarding- 
house  was  in  a  quiet  neighborhood,  and  had  no  other 
inmates  but  the  family  of  the  proprietor.  Her  room 
was  on  the  second  story,  with  the  window  looking  on 
the  street. 

Anxious  that  the  invalid  should  not  work  herself 
into  a  state  of  anxiety  by  straining  her  ears  to  listen 
to  every  passing  sound,  the  sweet  girl  had  taken 
down  her  little  Bible,  and  had  been  reading  aloud 
such  comfortable  and  dearly  familiar  passages  as  she 
thought  \vould  catch  her  friend's  attention,  and  be- 
guile her  from  the  present  suspense. 

Mrs.  Pomeroy  lay  looking  at  Barb's  small,  svelte 
figure  and  dove-eyes,  she  all  unconscious  of  the  in- 
creasing interest  of  the  gaze. 

Suddenly  the  old  woman's  quavering  tones  inter- 
rupted the  low  musical  ones  of  the  reader. 

"  Child,  stop  a  minute,"  said  she  earnestly,  "the 
more  I  look  at  you,  the  stronger  the  resemblance 
grows."  » 

"  What  resemblance  ?  "  asked  Barb,  meekly  laying 
aside  her  book  to  bend  tenderly  over  the  bed. 

"  It  is  not  only  that  her  hair  is  fair,  and  her  eyes 


148   THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY. 

blue  like  his,"  resumed  the  venerable  lady,  a  far-away 
look  in  her  own  dim  orbs ;'" she  has  the  same  trick 
of  expression,  the  same  cast  of  features, — they  might 
be  of  the  same  race !  and  why  not  ?  It  could  be  no 
mere  accident  that  gave  her  the  Pomeroy  counte- 
nance along  with  the  name  of  Arthur's  mother !  " 

"  Are  you  speaking  of  me,  dear  Mrs.  Pomeroy  ? " 
asked  Barb,  wonderingly,  "  and  if  you  are,  who  is  it 
that  I  resemble  ?  " 

"  My  husband,  Arthur  Pomeroy,"  replied  the  elder 
woman  with  some  agitation  ;  "if  I  had  not  been  so 
engrossed  in  my  own  poor  Barry's  affairs,  I  should 
have  been  struck  with  it  long  ago.  Little  Barb,  I 
doubt  not  that  you  are  of  Arthur's  kindred.  lie  had 
brothers,  one  older  than  himself,  the  heir  of  March- 
Common,  the  Pomeroy  estate  in  Devon,  and  one 
younger,  a  wild  young  rake  in  the  army,  who  married 
a  lady  of  wealth  but  low  birth,  squandered  her 
money,  and  then  deserted  her.  My  husband  kept 
out  of  their  way,  all  of  them,  because  they  thought 
he  had  married  beneath  him,  but  probably  if  Henry, 
his  youngest  brother,  had  known  where  to  find  him, 
he  would  have  confided  you  to  his  care.  I  believe 
you  are  his  daughter,  child." 

"  I  should  like  to  belong  to  you,"  said  Barb,  wist- 
fully, "  but  I  fear  I  shall  never  be  able  to  prove  it. 
Yon  see,  old  Nan  Devlin  got  me  when  I  was  a  baby, 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAT.  149 

down  at  Five  Points,  and  I  suppose  she  couldn't  have 
got  me  if  anybody  had  been  alive  to  claim  me." 

"Do  you  know  where  to  find  her?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Pomeroy. 

"  Oil,  yes,  in  Cardinal  Court,  ever  so  far  down  First 
Avenue, — and  I  svish  she  may  never  know  where  to 
find  me  !  "  exclaimed  Barb,  nervously. 

"When  this  trouble  is  over,  if  the  dear  Lord 
pleases  that  it  should  pass  away,"  murmured  the  old 
lady,  meekly  looking  up,  "  we  must  look  into  this. 
But  hush!  Did  you  hear  a  ring?  There,  Barb — 
there  !  at  last;  thank  God,  at  last !  " 

Yes,  at  last,  when  the  street  was  quiet,  and  every 
light  in  the  neighborhood  was  out,  a  gentle  ring  came 
to  the  door-bell. 

Barb  passed  one,  eloquent  glance  with  the  agitated 
invalid,  and,  throwing  a  shawl  round  her  shoulders — 
for  the  halls  were  cold  as  the  grave — she  flitted  down- 
stairs with  a  candlestick  in  her  hand,  and  softly,  so 
as  not  to  disturb  the  other  inmates  of  the  house,  undid 
the  bolts  and  opened  the  door. 

A  man,  muffled  completely  in  a  driver's  cloak,  pow- 
dered with  snow,  stood  on  the  steps,  and  behind  him 
a  carriage  was  drawn  up  to  the  pavement. 

"  You  are  Miss  Pomeroy,  are  you  ? "  quoth  he,  in- 
distinctly, as  if  he  feared  to  rouse  the  neighbors. 

"  Yes ! " 


150  TEE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY. 

Barb's  eyes  were  glued  to  the  window  of  the  coach. 

"  Lady  wishes  to  speak  to  you,"  said  he,  stepping 
aside  to  let  her  pass. 

Barb  hesitated,  a  vague  fear  at  her  heart.  Was 
this  Barry,  determined  not  to  alight  till  she  knew 
that  her  deserted  lover  was  gone,  er  Miss  Hendrick, 
resolved  to  learn  the  truth  ? 

A  female  head  appeared  at  the  carriage  window, 
veiled. 

Barb  flew  down  the  steps,  the  driver  hurrying 
after ;  the  carriage  door  was  opened,  and  two  hands 
as  strong  as  iron  seized  her  by  the  arms. 

Barb,  violently  startled,  made  an  effort  to  free  her- 
self from  the  woman's  vice-like  grasp,  and  in  the 
struggle  the  woman's  veil  was  wrenched  from  her 
face. 

Barb  uttered  one  wild  scream  of  horror — a  scream 
that  rang  through  the  street  and  up  the  open  passage 
to  the  room  where  poor  Mrs.  Pomeroy  lay  with  ear 
strained  to  catch  her  daughter's  voice. 

"  In  with  her!  "  muttered  the  woman,  with  an  oath ; 
and  the  driver,  clapping  his  hand  upon  her  mouth, 
forced  her  inside,  jumped  up  to  his  seat,  and,  lashing 
his  horses  to  their  fleetest  speed,  tore  down  the  street 
just  as  the  policeman's  warning  whistle  sounded,  and 
Mrs.  Pomeroy  appeared  at  the  open  window,  holding 
on  to  the  sill,  arid  feebly  calling : 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY.   151 

"  Help  !  help !     Oh,  Barry  ! " 

In  vain  Barb  struggled  madly  in  the  brutal  grip  of 
the  detestable  woman  ;  she  held  her  as  if  she  was  a 
child,  almost  smothering  her  with  her  coarse  hand  in 
order  to  keep  her  quiet ;  and  soon,  with  a  wail  of  de- 
spair, Barb  sank.down  in  the  bottom  of  the  carriage, 
all  her  strength  qiienched  in  a  moment  by  the»appall- 
ing  thought :  "  Barry  has  done  this  !  " 

Who  but  Barry  knew  enough  of  her  life  to  set  old 
Nan  upon  her,  aided  by  her  horrible  accomplice,  Tim 
Poison — the  ancient  terror  of  Barb's  childhood — 
Nan's  aid  and  abettor  in  every  villainy  which  required 
two  to  carry  it  out  ?  Yes  ;  Barry  had  invoked  their 
aid  to  rid  her  of  this  too  faithful  friend  who  would  have 
saved  her  from  the  commission  of  some  dread  crime ! 

Sweet,  loyal,  tender  little  Barb,  waif  of  the  streets, 
taught  by  God  alone,  now  may  He  guard  and  succor 
thee,  thou  beloved  of  His  angels  ! 

They  stole  her  thus  from  the  modest  home  she  had 
made  for  herself,  and  consigned  her  to  the  loathsome 
den  she  had  rescued  Barry  from  one  year  ago. 

Her  hand  had  led  Barry  out  from  dangers  worse  than 
death,  now  Barry's  hand  thrust  her  back  into  them  ! 

Fitting  return,  was  it  not? 

Yet,  base  as  this  act  of  ingratitude  may  seem,  when 
offered  by  one  human  being  to  another — how  natural, 
how  customary,  how  excusable  such  acts  are  when 


152   THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAT. 

offered  by  mortal  to  his  Creator !  Ay,  so  says  the 
World,  but  one  day  the  Heavens  shall  be  reddened 
with  shame  for  the  World,  as  it  burns  on  the  Day  of 
its  Doom,  and  by  that  last  great  conflagration  we 
shall  see  things  differently! 

****** 

The  -frantic  scream  of  the  kidnapped  girl  brought 
help  anon  to  Mrs.  Pomeroy. 

And  when  they  found  her  lying  like  one  dead  be- 
neath the  open  window,  with  the  snow  drifting  over 
her,  and  the  house  door  left  wide  to  the  Avail,  they 
thought  she  had  risen  in  delirium  and  that  Barb  had 
fled  in  terror  for  a  doctor  ;  so  that  when  half  an  hour 
later  another  carriage  arrived,  with  a  beautiful  yonrg 
lady  in  it,  who  gazed  like  some  one  struck  to  stone 
upon  the  senseless  face  of  the  invalid,  and  in  a  brief 
sentence^xplained  that  Barbara  Pomeroy  had  fled  to 
her  for  help  for  her  friend,  and  that  she  had  come 
with  her  servants  to  remove  her  at  once  to  her  own 
residence,  they  let  them  go  without  cavil,  more  es- 
pecially as  all  expenses  were  paid  in  the  handsomest 
manner. 

But  when  Mrs.  Pomeroy  opened  her  eyes  again 
upon  the  world  which  had  darkened  so  dreadfully 
for  he*,  and  found  herself  in  a  beautiful  chamber  sur- 
rounded with  all  the  luxuries  and  elegancies  of  life, 
with  a  neat  old  nurse  in  attendance,  and  the  noon 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY.  153 

sun  shining  cheerily  upon  silken  curtain  and  marble 
statue,  she  wailed  : 

"  Where  is  Barry  ?  Where  is  Barb  ?  Alas  !  I  am 
bereaved — I  must  die  in  a  stranger's  arms !  " 

"  Madame,"  said  the  nurse,  approaching  with  vel- 
vet tread — a  womanly  smile  irradiating  her  comely 
features,  "  I  not  Inglis — no,  I  German." 

****** 

Ten  days  only,  and  then  comes  the  wedding  morn, 
on  which  Katherine  Ilendrick  and  Harrison  Fair- 
leigh  are  to  be  united  in  the  holy  bonds  of  matri- 
mony. 

The  bridal  trousseau  is  completed,  and  is  the  envy 
and  admiration  of  Katherine  Hendrick's  innumera- 
ble lady  friends.  The  bridal  presents  are  arriving, 
jewels,  plate,  triumphs  of  art  and  taste  ;  already  they 
say  that  half  a  million  of  dollars  would  not  buy 
them.  The  chamber  devoted  to  their  display  looks 
— say  they  who  have  seen  it — like  a  section  in  Tif- 
fany's. 

The  invitations  to  the  wedding  have  been  out  for 
some  time,  and  the  feminine  monde  is  in  a  perfect 
fever. 

The  baroness  is  truly  happy  at  present.  Nevcr'has 
she  felt  the  dignity  of  her  position  as  she  feels  it  now. 
The  baron — to  whom  we  have  never  as  yet  been  per- 
sonally introduced — in  public,  bears  the  honor  of  this 


154  THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAT. 

projected  alliance  with  all  the  sang  froid  of  one  born 
to  the  purple,  but  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  sanctum^ 
as  he  lolls  back  in  his  easy-chair,  with  legs  crossed, 
and  fat  finger-tips  meeting  over  his  ample  person,  he 
sends  up,  with  every  curl  of  pale-blue  vapor  from  his 
excellent  cigar,  a  mental  thanksgiving  to  the  god 
whom  he  adores — Success. 

"Ha!  ha!"  exul  ts  Bernard  Hendrick.  "Nothing 
succeeds  like  success.  Had  the  archduke  succeeded 
in  concealing  that  faux  pas  of  his  from  me,  where 
would  my  rank  and  wealth  be- now?  But  my  god 
smiled  upon  me  as  it  frowned  upon  him  !  Republi- 
can society  crouches  at  my  feet ;  the  best  match  in 
the  market  bears  off  my  daughter.  I  have  nothing 
before  me  but  serene  old  age  and  happiness.  Once  I 
thought  I  should  have  had  to  enter  the  church  for  a 
living ! " 

The  beauteous  Katharine,  too,  is  almost  complacent. 
How  can  she  find  room  for  dissatisfaction  with  fifty 
new  toilettes  in  her  wardrobe  ;  new  jewels  worthy  of 
a  princess  in  her  caskets ;  the  handsomest  man  in 
New  York  visiting  her,  with  ardent  protestations  of  de- 
votion, three  times  a  day ;  a  grand  six  months'  Euro- 
pean tour  in  contemplation,  every  lady  of  discrimina- 
tion bursting  with  envy,  and,  best  of  all,  Marah  Leith 
in  disgrace  with  Harrison  ! 

"  I  confess  I  used  rather  to  admire  the  gypsy  beauty 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WA  Y.   155 

of  the  jade,"  the  bridegroom-elect  sometimes  says ; 
"  but  since  I  discovered  that  she  had  fallen  in  love 
with  me,  and  had  a  devil  of  a  temper  besides,  I've 
lost  all  interest  in  her.  I  think  Roscoe's  ^smitten  in 
that  quarter — he's  always  dangling  after  her." 

The  latter  clause  of  this  sentence  was  the  only  por- 
tion of  it  which  was  founded  on  fact. 

Mr.  Roscoe  was  singularly  attentive  to  Miss  Leith 
in  those  days,  and,  what  is  more,  she  seemed  to  en- 
courage his  attentions. 

"  The  tragedy  ends  in  comedy,"  thought  Katherine. 
"  Despairing  of  Harrison,  this  adventuress  will  set  her 
snares  for  the  next  best  match.  But  wait  until  I'm 
safely  married,  Bil  see  that  Lionel  does  not  make 
such  an  absurd  mesalliance  !  " 

This  comfortable  arrangement  of 'past  perplexities 
— namely,  the  dispersion  of  Barb,  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  and 
Hugh,  and  the  reassurance  of  the  baron,  baroness,  and 
the  bride-elect — wanted  but  one  manoeuvre  to  make 
it  complete. 

Roscoe's  suspicions  had  to  be  allayed,  and  Barry 
found  herself  equal  to  the  task. 

She  went  to  Harrison  and  retailed  the  evidence 
given  her  by  Barb — Roscoe  was  on  the  trail,  how  was 
he  to  be  set  at  fault  ? 

Harrison,  aghast,  could  think  of  nothing  but  im- 
mediate elopement. 


156    THE. HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY. 

"  Impossible,"  said  Barry,  her  long  lashes  hiding 
the  inscrutable  smile  in  her  eyes.  "I've  had  to  dis- 
pose of  our  evil  genius — the  other  Barbara  Pomeroy 
— for  a  time,  and  to  conceal  my  mother  where  Dr. 
Hugh  Wayne  won't  find  her,  and  where  I  can  see 
her  every  day.  She's  desperately  ill ;  I  can't  leave 
her — I  won't  leave  her  until  I'm  forced  to  go!" 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  loved  me  above  anything 
in  heaven,  earth,  or  the  other  orthodox  locality," 
said  Harrison.  "  Having  made  np  our  minds,  why 
do  you  put  me  off  now?  You  won't  go  with  rne  till 
you  are  forced,  yon  say.  What  will  force  you,  then?  " 

"Your  marriage-day,"  said  Barry,  glancing  up 
with  luring  wile.  "  Whatever  happens,  I  keep  my 
promise  before  that." 

A  short  interruption  for  lover-like  raptures  on 
Harrison's  part,  the  tropical  ardor  of  which  would 
have  set  the  cold  blood  of  Katherine  leaping  like 
fire  through  her  veins. 

Barry  drew  back  with  a  gasp. 

"  Reserve  all  that,"  said  she,  in  a  breathless  way. 
"  Time  enough  after  the  fifth  of  February  ;  " — this 
was  Katherine's  wedding-day — "  yet,"  she  added, 
with  a  sudden  glance  of  fire,  as  she  held  out  her 
beautiful  hand,  "  don't  feel  disappointed  in  me,  Har- 
rison ;  you  know  I  love  you  as  woman  never  loved 
before." 


THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAT.   157 

He  seized  it  and  covered  it  with  mad  kisses. 
Ever  hiring,  ever  repulsing  him,  she  held  him  like  a 
chained  lion,  with  her  foot  upon  his  neck ;  but,  oh ! 
her  promises  for  the  future  were  enough  to  compen- 
Bate  for  aU  her  present  niggardliness. 

"  There,  that  will  do,"  said  she  presently,  with- 
drawing even  her  hand  from  him.  "  Let  us  to  busi- 
ness. Lionel  Roscoe  suspects  a  past  history,  in 
which  Barbara  Pomeroy  and  Harrison  Fairleigh 
were  the  sole  actors.  He  will  run  the  mystery  to 
the  ground  for  Katherine's  sake !  Something  must 
be  done." 

"Yes,  indeed!"  responded  Harrison,  pulling  his 
mustache  savagely ;  "  but  what  can  that  something 
be  ?  Dashed  if  I  have  the  ghost  of  an  idea." 

"  Well,  if  you  can  suggest  nothing,  I  must,"  said 
Barry,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "  Turn  him  over  to 
me;  I'll  undertake  to  throw  dust  in  his  eyes.  Oh, 
what  an  ugly  frown !  Ha !  ha !  How  absurd  to 
see  you  jealous !  Perhaps  some  day  you  will  wish 
you  had  turned  him  over  to  me  in  earnest." 

"  All  right,  Barry  !  I  suppose  I  can  trust  you.  It 
would  be  a  queer  thing  if  I  couldn't,  eh,  after  all 
that's  passed  between  us." 

"  'Twould  be  as  unnatural  and  unexpected  as 
death,"  said  Barry.  "  We  never  look  for  that,  you 
know." 


158   THE  HEARTS  SHE  TRAMPLED  BY  THE  WAY.   ' 

"  Yet  it  always  comes,"  said  Harrison,  gazing  at 
her  nervously. 

"  Always !  Always ! "  breathed  Barry,  flitting 
away. 

"How  she  talks!"  aspirated  Harrison.  "She's 
always  sending  this  horrid  creep  through  me  now. 
If  she  wasn't  so  desperately  in  love  with  me,  I'd  some- 
times think  there  was  mischief  brewing.  Somehow 
I  don't  much  care — I  only  want  to  win  her  now." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   LAST   APPEAL. 

bride -elect  had  long  ago  declared  her  dis- 
residing  in  Virginia,  and  the  bride- 
groom-elect had  gracefully  given  up  his 
dream  of  restoring  the  old  manorial  house  of  his 
fathers,  and  installing  her  as  mistress  of  his  Southern 
principality.  Instead,  he  had  taken  a  fine  house  an 
hour's  ride  up  the  Hudson,  and  fitted  it  up  royally 
for  her  reception  at  the  close  of  the  wedding-tour. 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  and  Barry  went  to  see  this  palace 
where  Wedded  Bliss  was  to  reign  ;  they  passed  from 
bottom  to  top  and  down  again,  viewing  nothing  but 
prodigal  splendor. 

"  Is  anything  lacking  ? "  asked  Harrison  of  his 
mother  with  his  lips,  but  of  Barry  with  his  eyes. 

"  Nothing,"  smiled  Mrs.  Fairleigh  ;  "  all  is  perfect. 
May  the  bride's  gratification  be  equally  so ! " 

"  One  thing — a  trifle  scarce  worth  mentioning," 
smiled  Barry — "  do  you  see  that  panel  ?" 

They  were  standing  in  the  bridal  chamber,  and  she 
was  pointing  at  a  court  beauty  in  diamonds  and  point- 


160  A  LAST  APPEAL. 

lace,  who  looked  down  from  the  panel  exactly  oppo- 
site the  grand  mirror,  as  if  eternally  ad  miring  herself 
therein. 

"  Well  ? "  demanded  Harrison,  eagerly. 

"  Have  that,  the  symbol  of  social  rank  and  pride, 
taken  down*  and  in  her  place  paint  with  your  own 
brush  a  Mand  Muller,  symbol  of  beauty  and  worth 
without  birth  or  wealth.  The  bride  will  recognize  a 
subtile  compliment  to  herself — an  unspoken  assurance 
that  had  she  been  a  very  Maud  Muller,  standing 
breast-high  in  the  corn,  her  lord  would  have  loved 
her  all  the  same." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear ! "  cried  Mrs.  Fairleigh, 
laughing.  "  The  idea  is  pretty,  but  where  is  the 
time  ?  Three  days  ! " 

Barry  lifted  her  great,  velvet-soft  orbs  to  Harrison's 
conscious  face. 

"  Is  it  impossible  ? "  said  she. 

"No,  no;  nothing  you  ask  is  impossible!"  an- 
swered he,  with  a  passionate  glance.  "  It  shall  be 
done ;  but  I  must  work  day  and  night  to  achieve  the 
task,  lady  fair." 

"  That  will  but  prove  your  devotion ! "  murmured 
she. 

He  turned  away,  that  his  mother  might  not  see  the 
flush  of  adoration  rise  to  his  cheek  and  burn  there. 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  let  these  two  please  themselves  in 


A  LAST  APPEAL.  161 

the  matter ;  she  thought  her  Marah's  wish  an  eccen- 
tric one,  but  she  had  a  deep  respect  for  her  taste,  and 
enjoyed  Harrison's  admiration  of  it. 

So  Harrison  shut  himself  up  in  the  empty  mansion, 
with  paint-box  and  palette,  and  in  spite  of  all  he 
could  do  to  keep  her  off  the  canvas,  painted  a  Barry 
Pomeroy  among  the  corn. 

Would  the  reader  know  Barry's  reason  for  this 
whim  ?  She  wanted  him  to  place  in  her  hands  a 
written  declaration  of  his  perfidy  to  Katherine. 

The  day  before  the  wedding  he  received  this  letter 
from  Barry : 

"  HARRISON  :  Lionel  Roscoe  is  mysterious.  I  dis- 
trust him  exceedingly.  He  is  evidently  resolved  to 
bring  Barbara  Pomeroy  and  you  together  if  he  can, 
before  it  is  too  late.  Tell  me  once  more  how  yon 
love  me — how  you  honor  me.  Let  me  read  with  my 
eyes  what  I  have  so  often  drank  in  with  my  ears — 
all  you  intend  to  do  for  me  for  true  love's  sake:  and 
if  my  heart  echoes  to  your  words,  as  I  hope  it  will, 

you  shall  find  me  in  Room  ISTo.  71, Hotel,  at 

midnight  of  this  the  4th  of  February,  ready  to  go 
where  yon  will. 

"  For  the  last  time,  I  remain 

"  Your  faithful 

"BARBARA  POMEROY." 


162  A  LAST  APPEAL. 

****** 

And  so  these  last  days  dropped  one  by  one  into  the 
past,  without  a  perceptible  cloud  upon  their  tranquil 
skies  to  warn  the  doomed  ones  of  the  lowering  storm. 
One  by  one,  in  halcyon  calm  and  shining  content ; 
and  beneath,  above,  from  every  side,  sped  the  coming 
horror,  too  awful  to  be  dreamed  of  by  the  unsuspect- 
ing victims. 

****** 

The  night  before  the  wedding  !  Poets  have  sung 
of  it,  artists  have  painted  it,  lovers  have  raved  of  it — • 
the  beautiful  night  before  the  wedding  ! 

The  bride-elect  sat  alone  in  her  perfumed  cham- 
ber, and  it  seemed  as  if  the  deep  joy  and  triumph 
which  irradiated  her  features  glorified  that  perfect 
face  into  supernal  beauty. 

She  had  come  from  his  arms  with  a  thrilling 
"  Good-night  for  the  last  time,  beloved,"  to  muse  here 
in  breathless  rapture  over  the  swiftly  approaching 
culmination  of  all  her  hopes.  For  once  the  cold  and 
haughty  Katherine  was  in  the  melting  mood ;  great  dia- 
mond-bright tears  threaded  her  down-dropped  lashes  ; 
delicate  gleams  of  carmine  came  and  went  upon  her 
cheeks  ;  her  proud  lip  quivered  with  tender  emotion. 

The  love  of  her  life  was  stirring  in  her  long-locked 
breast,  and  before  his  magic  wand  all  baser  passions 
were  falling  from  their  pedestals. 


A  LAST  APPEAL.  163 

"Who  conld  have  recognized  in  that  dreamy,  bend- 
mg  figure,  its  purple-tressed  head  resting  upon  its 
lily  hands,  and  gentle  tears  dripping  from  its  half 
closed  eyes,  the  imperious  Katheriue  Hendrick,  who 
queened  it  in  the  world  ? 

Ivatherine  and  Harrison  had  parted  in  the  drawing- 
room  at  ten  o'clock  that  evening,  after  an  hour's  in- 
terview— the  only  interview  held  between  them  since 
the  day  his  mother  and  Miss  Leith  had  gone  with 
him  to  see  his  castle  on  the  Hudson.  This  seeming 
neglect  had  been  more  than  satisfactorily  explained 
by  the  lover's  ardent  whisper: 

"  I  was  doing  something  with  my  own  hands  for 
my  bride !  " 

And  the  baron  and  baroness  peering  down  the  long 
vista  of  drawing-rooms  to  that  semi-darkened  one 
where  the  stately  pair  stood  together,  he  bending  over 
her  in  loving  tenderness,  and  she  drooping  in  love's 
languor  under  his  gaze,  had  glanced  at  each  other 
over  the  solemn  game  of  chess  which  they  were  play- 
ing, and  nodded  their  mutual  approval. 

****** 

Katherine's  reverie  was  broken  by  the  gentle  click 
of  the  key  turning  in  her  chamber  door. 

She  looked,  and  half  rose  with  a  faint  ejaculation. 
A  woman,  muffled  from  head  to  foot  in  an  ample 
mantle,  and  deeply  veiled,  turned  from  the  door, 


164  A  LAST  APPEAL. 

putting  the  key  in  her  pocket,  and  stood  before  her 
with  folded  arms  and  eyes  glittering  through  the  rich 
lace  which  shrouded  her  face. 

And  when  Katherine  saw  the  grand  height,  the 
massive  mould,  and  the  full  curving  outline  of  that 
noble  form,  an  icy  bolt  of  terror  shot  through  her — 
she  sank  back  with  a  deep  breath. 

For  a  few  moments  she  was  silent;  then  her  spirit 
came  back  to  her,  her  quick  wrath  leaped  up,  she 
cried  out,  in  a  bitter  voice  : 

"  I  know  you,  Marah  Leith  !  Miserable  adventur- 
ess, what  insolence  is  this  ?  You  have  the  entree  to 
my  privacy,  forsooth !  " 

And  her  enemy  brushed  aside  her  veil,  cast  off  her 
mantle,  and  showed  her  the  face  of  Marah  Leith 
with  a  fatal  smile  upon  it ;  and  the.  form  of  Marah 
Leith  towering  above  her  in  magnificent  strength  and 
scorn. 

"  Katherine  Ilendrick,"  said  she,  with  an  exultant 
mirth  in  her  tones,  "  I  pay  you  this  visit  in  confi- 
dence, out  of  respect  to  your  feelings.  I  would  not 
have  the  world  witness  the  first  moments  of  your 
agony.  I  alone  shall  be  present  to  console  you." 

Katherine's  delicate  features  assumed  a  livid  pal- 
lor, but,  with  a  single  glance  of  disdain,  she  rose  and 
swept  toward  the  bell. 

Barry's  low,  derisive  laugh  stayed  her  hand  ;  Bar- 


A  LAST  APPEAL.  165 

rv's  next  words  sent  her  back  to  her  chair,  with  a 
fierce  determination  to  wring  the  truth  from  her  for 
once  and  all. 

"  Ha  !  ha !  ha !  "  exulted  Barry.  "  You  prefer  the 
public  exposure  of  your  so-called  bridegroom's  infi- 
delity, do  yon  ?  Good  !  I  am  ready  to  give  it  publicly 
or  privately.  What !  you  have  changed  your  mind 
once  more." 

"  You  wicked  woman  !  "  exclaimed  Katherine,  be- 
tween her  teeth.  "  I  feel  myself  as  much  insulted 
by  your  presence  as  if  I  had  proof  that  you  were  the 
lowest  traviata  that  pi-owls  in  Water  Street.  From 
the  first  I  have  suspected  you  to  be  imposing  upon 
Mrs.  Fairleigh's  credulity — to  be  a  mere  charlatan, 
determined  upon  marrying  her  son — and  now  you've 
given  me  confirmation  of  my  suspicions.  If  1  had 
you  thrust  forth  by  my  father's  footmen  I  should  but 
treat  you  as  you  deserve,  but  I  shall  not  do  so  yet. 
You  have  come  here  to  say  something.  Proceed— I'll 
hear  it." 

A  strange  sight,  truly,  these  two  beautiful  women 
confronting  each  other  in  that  dainty  room  ;  softest 
luxury  and  rarest  elegance  all  about  them — savage 
passions  raging  in  their  souls  ! 

The  scathing  words,  the  lady-like  stings  of  high-bred 
Katherine,  were  scarcely  less  terrible  than  the  quiet, 
slow  scorn  and  visible  strength  of  the  country  girl ; 


166  A  LAST  APPEAL. 

but  the  first  was  as  the  light  arrow-shaft  glancing  off 
the  impervious  steel  of  the  ainazon. 

"  To-morrow  is  your  wedding-day,"  said  Barry,  her 
rich  contralto  tones  contrasting  forcibly  in  their  even 
tranquillity  with  the  shrill  and  tremulous  soprano  of 
Katherine's.  "  To-morrow  at  eleven  o'clock  you  are 
to  become  Harrison  Faiiieigh's  wife.  You  exult  in 
the  thought — you  glory  in  it.  Katherine  Hendrick," 
— she  bent  over  her  with  a  sudden  wild  pity  in  her 
lowered  tone  and  softening  eye — "do  you  love 
him?" 

"  What  is  that  to  you,  wretch  ?  "  retorted  Kathe- 
rine, recoiling. 

Oh,  Katherine !  had  thy  heart  been  womanly  it 
would  have  spoken  then,  and  thy  evil  pride  would 
have  been  mute ! 

"  Love  him  !  "  cried  Barry,  with  a  burst  of  vehe- 
ment contempt.  "  Yes,  as  beasts  love  those  who  treat 
them  best — as  fools  love  the  jewels  which  excite  other 
fools'  envy.  Love  !  O  God !  that's  her  kind  of  it ! 
If  he  insulted  you,  if  he  trampled  on  you,  if  he 
changed  you  from  a  simple,  pure,  kind,  credulous 
girl,  into  a  fiend  in  woman's  shape  meditating  mur- 
der, would  you  still  love  him?  " 

"  1  am  well  rewarded  for  my  clemency  by  this  vio- 
lence," said  Katherine,  bitterly. 

"  No,  your  love  would    not   outlive   the    smallest 


A  LAST  APPEAL.  167 

slight,  nor  the  discovery  of  the  most  trivial  imperfec- 
tion, because  you  never  had  it  in  your  tiny  ice-house 
of  a  heart !  "  resumed  Barry.  "  You  marry  him  to 
gratify  pride,  ambition,  and  such  poor  substitutes  for 
holy  conjugal  affection  ;  nor  would  you  give  him  up 
should  you  see  her  kneel  at  your  feet  in  whom  lie  has 
wrought  the  fell  change  I  have  described,  and  who 
loves  him  stilt,  poor  madwoman, — ay,  and  will  love 
him  forever ! " 

"  You  mean  yourself,  of  course  ? "  said  Katharine, 
flashing  into  ungovernable  rage.  "  Shameless  wretch, 
that  degrades  the  name  of  woman  by  wearing  it.  I 
don't  know  what  infatuation  forces  me  to  listen  to 
you !  Do  you  mean  yourself  ?  " 

"I  mean  one  named  Barbara  Pomeroy" 

Katherine  uttered  a  gasping  cry. 

Twice  had  that  name  been  spoken  in  her  hearing ; 
once  when  the  Mother  Superior  at  the  masked  ball  had 
wailed,  stretching  out  her  arms  toward  Marah 
leith : 

"  Oh,  Barbara  Pomeroy,  come  back  to  me !  " 

And  again,  when  Lionel  Roscoe  had  one  day  lately 
asked : 

"  Katherine,  has  Fairleigh  ever  mentioned  a  girl  of 
the  name  of  Barbara  Pomeroy,  to  you  ?  " 

She  fastened  her  bewildered  eyes  upon  Barry's 
^stony  face. 


168  A  LAST  APPEAL. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,"  she  implored.  "  Have  I  been 
mistaken  all  this  time  ?  Is  it  not  you,  but  gome  other, 
whom  he  has  loved  before  me  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ? "  said  Barry,  quoting  her 
late  harsh  words  as  harshly.  "  I  tell  you  that  he  has 
won  the  love  of  an  innocent  girl,  and  has  then  so  mis- 
erably played  with  it  that  she  is  now  as  vile  in  heart 
as  once  she  was  pure." 

"  Are  you  the  woman  ? "  demanded  Ivatherine, 
trembling  with  excitement. 

"Never  mind !  there  is  such  a  woman,"  said  Barry. 
"  Would  you  marry  a  man  whom  you  knew  had  done 
this?" 

Katherme  relinquished  her  point  in  the  painful  in- 
terest of  this  question  : 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  his  past  life,"  said  she, 
haughtily;  "I  shall  certainly  marry  him." 

"  But  not  if  you  knew  that  your  doing  so  would 
consign  another  woman  to  perdition?" 

Katherine  Hendrick  flashed  a  lightning  glance  up 
at  the  dark,  fierce  face  before  her,  and  at  sight  of  the 
lines  of  cruel  pain  imprinted  upon  it,  that  cruelest, 
most  unreasoning  of  demons,  Jealousy,  slid  into  her 
heart,  and  with  a  wave  of  his  sceptre  banished  Mercy 
and  all  her  train. 

"  Ha !  You  can't  deceive  me  !  "  she  cried,  shrilly. 
"  You  are  the  woman  yourself !  I  thought  I  was  not 


A  LAST  APPEAL.  169 

mistaken  in  you  ;  swindler — impostor !  Your  real 
name  is  Barbara  Pomeroy,  is  it  2  And  you  have  dared 
to  tempt  my  lover  to  be  unfaithful  to  me ! " 

"  He  stole  my  love  before  he  ever  saw  your .  face," 
said  Barry.  "  He  has  made  me  what  I  am.  Silence ! 
No  more  insults,  madam.  The  mask  is  dropped  ;  you 
must  hear,  the  truth." 

"If  it  can  be  told  by  such  as  you  !"  sneered  Kath- 
erine. 

"I'm  a  minister's  daughter.  I  was  brought  up 
well,"  said  Barry,  turning  pale,  "  I  was  engaged  to 
marry  a  good  man ;  my  poor  old  mother  leaned  on 
me  for  all  the  joy  she  had  on  earth ;  he  beguiled  me 
of  my  heart  before  I  knew  it ;  from  the  first  moment 
when  his  wicked  love  fell  upon  me,  I  began  to  sink. 
I  was  false  to  my  betrothed  in  heart  before  a  word  of 
love  was  spoken,  and  when  he  did  speak  and  I  ac- 
cepted his  profession  in  good  faith,  and  he  made  me 
understand  the  true  nature  of  his  accursed  passion,  in 
that  bitter  moment  I  fell  from  my  high  paradise  of  girl- 
ish purity  down — down  to  the  depths  of  the  degraded 
in  heart.  lie  had  blighted  me  with  a  word.  I've  never 
been  the  same  since  !  Try  to  comprehend  me,  you, 
who  have  lived  a  lady's  life,  into  which  such  foul  in- 
sult never  dared  intrude  ;  I  am  debased  by  Harrison 
Fairleigh,  not  in  deed,  but  in  mind — in  deed  I  am  as 
pure  as  you  !  " 


170  A  LAST  APPEAL. 

Katherine  interrupted  her  here,  exclaiming  in 
breathless  eagerness : 

"  What  do  you  want,  then  ?  You  are  not  really  in- 
jured ?  Why  do  you  make  this  outcry  ? " 

"  O !  God !  listen  to  this  woman ! "  cried  Barry,  with 
fierce  bitterness.  "  I  am  not  injured  1  Is  it  no  in j ury 
to  have  the  door  of  heaven  shut  in  my  face  ?  ISTo  in- 
jury to  be  sent  to  the  eternal  companionship  of  devils, 
as  black-hearted  as  they?  Katherine,"  she  cried, 
clasping  her  hands,  "  nothing  can  save  me  from  that 
which  lies  deep  as  the  pit  before  me ;  but  you  can  be 
saved  from  the  shameful  crime  of  thrusting  me  on. 
Give  up  this  man  Fairleigh  at  rny  request,  write  him 
your  contempt  and  loathing,  and  send  the  letter  to-  • 
night — you  will  thank  me  to-morrow  for  having  given 
you  the  chance.  I  don't  desire  vengeance  on  you,  you 
have  done  me  no  harm  hitherto,  not  knowing  my  his- 
tory, but  deny  me  now,  and  eternity  will  not  be  long 
enough  for  your  frantic  repentance !  Will  you  do 
this?" 

They  gazed  into  each  other's  steadfast  eyes ;  neither 
shrank  nor  flinched. 

The  madness  of  jealousy  blazed  in  Katherine's; 
the  gloom  of  death  filled  Barry's,  and  Pandemonium 
raged  in  each  heart. 

"If  he  had  wronged  you  a  thousand  times,  that 
would  be  your  care,  not  mine  nor  his,"  said  Katherine, 


A  LAST  APPEAL.  171 

with  curling  lips.  "Fool!  you  are  simply  love- 
crazed.  Begone,  I'll  give  you  no  such  promise." 

"  Yon  mean  this?"  said  Barry,  in  a  suppressed 
voice,  a  terrible  smile  gathering  about  her  whitening 
lips. 

"  I'll  never  give  him  up  !  never !  "  cried  Katherine 
Hendrick,  rising  and  raising  her  shaking  hand  toward 
heaven.  "  I  swear  to  marry  him  if  my  path  to  the 
altar  was  strewn  with  victims  of  his  fascination  ! 
Now,  go." 

Barry  drew  from  her  bosom  an  open  envelope,  and 
laid  it  on  the  gilded  tea-poy  at  Katherine's  elbow. 

"  I  would  have  spared  you  this,"  said  she,  laughing 
deliriously,  "but  you  will  have  it.  Farewell;  you  are 
a  wickeder  woman  than  I  after  all.  We  shall  meet 
ere  long  in  our  master,  Satan's  realms.  Till  then, 
farewell !  " 

Katherine  seized  the  packet,  and  recognizing  the 
writing,  uttered  a  sharp  cry,  and  turned  to  detain  her 
visitor. 

She  found  herself  alone. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LITTLE   BARB    WHOM    ANGELS    LOVED. 

Sr  days  ago  poor  little  Barb  was  stolen  from 
her  home  with  cruel  violence,  and  consigned 
to  a  dark,  loathsome  closet  off  old  Nan's 
attic,  with  the  key  turned  on  her. 

How  has  she  fared  since  then  ? 

As  she  lay  weeping  in  the  dark  upon  the  heaps  of 
old  straw  and  sacking  under  the  eaves  that  first  night, 
she  overheard  old  Nan  and  Tim  Poison  chuckling 
together  over  their  potations  a  little  after  the  follow- 
ing manner : 

Old  Nan  :  "  Good  stroke  of  business  for  us,  eh  ? '' 
Didn't  think  the  young  sinner  would  ever  have 
brought  us  such  luck.  Twenty  dollars  a  week  for  her 
board  and  attendance— he  !  he !  " 

Tim  Poison:  "Boards  indeed— I  rayther  think 
there  won't  be  too  many  feathers  nor  springs  be- 
tween !  An'  attendance — guess  she'll  sometimes  wish 
she  had  less  of  it  when  you're  at  her  heels,  old  girl — 
ho!  ho!" 

Old  Nan :  "Confounded  pity  we  couldn't  ha'  found 


LITTLE  BARB  WHOM  ANGELS  LO  VED.         173 

out  who  the  fine  young  madam  was  that  wanted  to 
get  rid  of  her.  That  was  your  fault,  old  man  ;  you 
was  too  drunk  to  folly  her  straight.  Jest  think — 
we  might  have  nosed  out  a  secret  that  would  ha'  kept 
you  and  me  comf'able  for  many  a  day.  You're  sure 
she  got  inter  a  carriage  ?  " 

Tim  Poison  :  "  Yes,  a  reg'lar  bang  up  crack  affair  ; 
horses,  coach,  and  servants,  all  as  black  as  coal,  with 
gold  mountings.  But,  Lor' !  she  was  up  to  me,  an* 
wouldn't  let  me  get  nigh  her!  Never  mind  her; 
we've  got  the  cash  for  one  week,  an'  the  young  minx 
inter  the  bargain.  Tell  yer  wat,  old  Nan,  Barb's 
.  spruced  up  wonderful.  As  salable  a  piece  o'  goods 
as  one  might  see  on  Fifth  Avenue." 

Old  Nan :  "  I  wonder  if  she's  as  stubborn  as  she 
used  to  be  !  I've  a  mind  ter  break  her  in,  Tim.  She 
is  as  handsome  as  a  daisy — an'  too  valiable  for  to  let 
out  of  our  hands  agin.  Eh,  Tim  ?  " 

Tim  Poison :  "  True  for  you,  comrade.  Let's  drink 
to  little  Pomeroy,  the  future  Trump-Card  of  Poison's 
Dance  House !  " 

But  here  the  trembling  listener  stopped  her  ears 
with  her  fingers,  sobbing  out : 

"Father,  do  you  hear  them?  Save — save — save 
me ! " 

The  next  morning,  a  fearful  scene  with  old  Nan 
took  place  in  the  locked  garret. 


174     LITTLE  BARB  WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED. 

The  wicked  woman  made  her  proposals,  leering 
and  wheedling,  painting  according  to  her  coarse  fancy 
a  life  of  ease  and  splendor,  of  admiration  and  pleas- 
ure ;  this  to  be  won  by  the  toil-worn  girl  at  the  small 
expense  of — Virtue.  , 

Barb  Pomeroy,  her  pure  soul  inspiring  her  tiny 
delicate  frame,  and  flashing  from  her  gentle  eyes, 
until  she  towered  formidably  over  the  wondering 
wretch,  sternly  refused  to  accept  a  life  of  infamy, 
however  splendid,  at  the  inestimable  loss  of  Vir- 
tue. 

Then  threats,  violence,  brutal  cruelties  were  re- 
sorted to — but  why  needlessly  distress  the  sickening 
reader  ? 

As  she  lay  half  insensible  on  the  vile  heap  which 
formed  her  bed,  alone  in  the  dark,  bruised,  shivering 
with  cold,  fainting  with  hunger,  what  did  brave  little 
Barb  think  of  cruel  Barry  who  had  consigned  her  to 
this  ? 

"  Oh,  good  Lord  !  "  she  moaned.  "  She  couldn't 
have  thought  of  this !  Forgive  her,  dear  Lord,  and 
make  her  sorry,  and  don't — don't  let  her  do  what  her 
heart  is  set  on,  for  Jesus'  sake — amen  !  " 

And  she  fixed  her  fainting  eyes  on  the  boards 
above  her  head,  where  a  glint  of  the  dark-blue  win- 
ter sky  shone  in,  and  the  chill  drops  from  the  thaw- 
ing ice  dripped  coldly  on  her  miserable  bed.  And 


LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED.      175 

she  held  sweeter  communion  through  that  crack  with 
the  Father  she  loved  so  well,  than  does  many  a  silken- 
clad  worshipper  kneeling  on  velvet  cushion  in  the 
sanctified  gloom  of  some  old  cathedral,  while  the 
white-robed  altar-boys  chant  sweetly  the  strains  of 
heaven  ;  for  He  spoke  to  her  then,  Spirit  to  spirit, 
with  never  a  jarring  voice  of  man  between. 

This  sort  of  thing  went  on  for  three  days.  They 
starved  her,  they  beat  her,  they  used  every  sort  of 
cruelty  they  dared  without  maiming  or  disfiguring 
her,  to  force  her  into  obedience  to  their  infamous 
plans ;  then  they  were  obliged  to  desist  in  terror  at 
what  they  had  done,  for  though  she  had  the  indomit- 
able spirit  of  one  of  the  ancient  martyrs — a  spirit 
like  theirs  given  just  when  needed  by  the  Great  King 
whom  she  loved  to  glorify — she  had  but  a  poor  con- 
stitution, and  broke  down  alarmingly  before  the  first 
sign  of  concession  had  appeared. 

Then  the  cowards  drew  her  out  out  of  the  den,  and 
in  much  consternation  at  the  consequences  in  store 
for  them  should  she  die  in  their  hands,  anxiously  did 
their  best  to  restore  her  exhausted  strength.  They 
succeeded ;  their  rough  nursing  brought  her  back 
from  the  very  gates  of  Heaven,  and  poor  little  Barb 
took  up  the  burden  of  life  again,  meekly  and  pa- 
tiently, though  her  dim  eyes  were  still  dazzled  with 
the  glimpse  she  had  had  of  the  glories  within  those 


176     LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED. 

open  gates,  and  her  sad  heart  yearned  for  the  great 
peace  that  awaited  her  there. 

And  the  days  were  hurrying  by,  bringing  closer 
and  closer  that  day  which  of,  all  she  dreaded  the 
most — the  fifth  of  February,  Katherine  Hendrick's 
wedding-day. 

What  was  it  Barry  had  said  in  that  last  interview, 
when  Barb  had  warned  her  that  Lionel  Hoscoe  was 
on  her  track?  Tearing  her  long  black  tresses,  and 
writhing  on  her  delicate  couch  in  fierce  impatience, 
she  had  exclaimed: 

"  So  Lionel  Roscoe  is  on  the  trail,  and  the  baroness 
and  you.  Heavens,  they  won't  give  me  time  !  " 

And  then  had  come  the  promise,  uttered  with 
Jezebel-like  gentleness,  that  she  would  go  and  see 
her  mother,  on  condition  that  Hugh  Wayne  would 
return  home,  leaving  her  and  Barb  to  her  mercy. 

What  was  it  she  meant  to  do  ? 

Amidst  the  worst  of  her  sufferings,  Barb  thought 
almost  constantly  of  this.  What  fearful  vengeance 
was  Barry  about  to  take  on  Harrison  Fairleigh,  or 
possibly  on  Katherine  Hendrick,  before  their  wed- 
ding-day ? 

As  her  strength  returned  her  suspense  became  in 
tolerable,  and  she  worried  herself  incessantly  trying 
to  devise  some  way  of  sending  a  warning  to  Fairleigh 
or  Miss  Hendrick,  or  of  communicating  with  Dr. 


LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED.      177 

Wayne.  She  was  at  her  wit's  end  how  to  do  either, 
for  she  was  never  allowed  outside  the  garret  door,  no 
visitor  was  received  inside  it,  and  she  was  never  left 
a  moment  alone. 

Waiting  impatiently  for  her  recovery,  that  their 
persecutions  might  be  resumed,  old  Nan  and  Jim  Pol- 
son  guarded  her  by  turns,  taking  excellent  care  that 
their  unknown  patroness's  orders  should  be  obeyed — 
that  she  should  hold  no  communication  with  the  outer 
world — and  that  she  should  not  slip  through  their 
fingers. 

And  I  truly  believe  they  would  have  succeeded  in 
at  least  one  part  of  their  schemes — that  is,  in  prevent- 
ing her  from  meddling  in  Barry's  affairs  until  it  was 
too  late,  had  not  a  tiny  crumb  which  Barb  had 
thrown  upon  the  waters  long  ago  come  back  to  her 
now,  as  if  by  chance,  in  the  very  nick  of  time. 

"  Chance  sped  the  dart, 
But  God  that  chance  did  guide !  " 

Old  Nan  was  out  on  some  evil  errand,  and  Jim 
Poison  was  on  duty. 

Disagreeable  duty  he  evidently  found  it,  for  as  he 
shuffled  his  greasy  cards  and  slapped  them  down 
upon  the  blackened  table  beside  the  wretched  fire,  a 

mumbled  curse  escaped  him  now  and  again,  and  he 
a* 


178     LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED. 

darted  glances  of  vindictive  spite  at  his  prisoner 
through  the  coarse  mat  of  hair  which  overhung  his 
beetling  eyebrows. 

Barb,  pale  and  pure  as  a  dove-eyed  nun,  sat  in  the 
rickety  chair  by  the  window  in  the  corner  of  the 
room  farthest  from  him,  shivering  a  little  as  the 
keen  air  sifted  in  through  the  shrunken  sash,  but 
sewing  busily  on  some  rag  of  old  Nan's,  and  singing 
very  softly — that  she  might  not  feel  so  'badly  when 
Tim  swore — these  words : 

"  God  is  near  thee, 
Therefore  cheer  thee, 

Sad  soul ! 
He'll  defend  thee, 
When  around  thee 

Billows  roll !  " 

"  Stop  that  confounded  whining !  "  roared  Tim  at 
last.  "  Who  wants  ter  feel  as  if  they  were  in 
meetin'  ?  There's  One-eyed  Sal  a-playin'  '  Oh,  ain't 
I  orf  ul ! '  down  street ;  let''s  hear  her — she's  more  to 
my  taste." 

Barb  laid  down  her  sewing  in  her  lap,  and  turned 
to  the  window  with  a  sudden  flush  in  her  wran  face. 
The  reedy  strains  of  a  miserable  hand-organ  floated 
above  the  din  of  the  drays,  the  jingle  of  the  street 
car-bells,  and  the  hoarse  shouts  of  vehicle-drivers  on 


LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED.      179 

the  street  five  stories  beneath.  The  same  old  dreary 
round  of  tunes  she  had  heard  for  years  from  One- 
eyed  Sal's  dilapidated  organ — they  distinctly  brought 
up  before  her  the  familiar  figure  of  the  starved, 
weather-beaten,  wan  widow,  who,  having  lost  her  eye 
by  the  exploding  of  a  shell  while  searching  for  her 
dead  husband's  body  on  the  outskirts  of  the  battle, 
had  been  forced  by  grizzly  want  to  do  the  only  thing 
she  could  with  impaired  sight,  for  the  sake  of  her 
puny  child,  a  cripple  for  life.  Time  had  been  when 
> little  Barb  Pomeroy — old  lean's  foundling — had 
stopped  by  the  hand-cart  in  which  Sal  wheeled  her 
organ  and  her  child  the  livelong  day,  and  had  spoken 
such  words  to  the  mother  and  given  such  smiles  to  the 
child  that  the  weary  woman  thought  her  like  an  angel, 
and  had  looked  for  her  day  by  day  to  come,  the  one 
glimpse  of  heaven  thrown  across  her  bleak  life-path. 

A  kind  word— oh,  inestimable  gem  !  For  gold 
may  rust,  and  favors  corrupt  the  heart,  but  a  kind 
word  is  like  the  sunbeam  imprisoned  in  the  opal, 
and  once  received  into  the  warming  bosom,  shines 
there  forever  with  inextinguishable  ray  ! 

Barb  knew  that  One-eyed  Sal  loved  her,  and  a. 
great  hope  made  all  her  pulses  thrill. 

"  She's  coming  this  way ;  I'll  open  the  window ," 
said  she  to  her  jailor.  "  Seems  to  me  it  would  cheer 
me  up  a  bit  to  hear  the  old  Bongs." 


180     LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED. 

"  If  anything  would  banish  your  blue  devils  it 
would  be  a  mercy !  "  growled  Tim,  who  had  a  de- 
cided penchant  for  music  of  the  jovial  order  himself; 
"  only  don't  let-  old  Nan  catch  ye  poking  your  head 
out  there." 

Barb  opened  the  window  and  leaned  out. 

There  was  the  poor  old  organ-woman  half  a  block 
down  the  street,  grinding  away  at  her  wheezy  in- 
strument, and  there  was  her  poor  little  boy,  rolled  up 
in  rags  in  the  end  of  the  cart,  his  face  as  thin  and 
blue  as  want  and  cold  could  make  it. 

Barb's  pulses  beat  faster.  In  a  few  minutes  Sal 
would  pass  under  her  window. 

"  If  she  would  only  look  up  and  see  me,"  thought 
Barb,  "  may  be  I  could  let  her  know  that  I  want  to  get 
away  from  here.  I  know  she'd  help  me  if  she  could." 

The  organ  stopped  playing,  Sal  wheeled  the  cart  a 
few  houses  nearer,  and  began  again. 

Barb  looked  back  into  the  room,  and  through  the 
blue  smoke  from  Tim's  pipe  saw  him  lolling  back  in 
his  chair,  with  his  feet  braced  against  the  wall  and 
his  back  to  her,  enjoying  the  music  while  he  turned 
over  the  filthy  leaves  of  a  dog-eared  song-book. 

"  If  I  only  had  a  pencil,"  thought  Barb,  "  and  a  bit 
of  paper,  I'd  write  something  to  Sal  this  very  minute., 
I  have  some  cents  in  my  pocket,  and  I  could  roll  'em 
up  in  it  and  pitch  it  down  to  her  easy." 


LITTLE  BARB    WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED.      131 

As  this  sigh  escaped  her,  she  noticed'  the  litter  of 
cards  and  half-burned  matches — both  being  the 
usual  evidences  of  Tim's  protracted  vigil — lying 
temptingly  on  the  table  between  them. 

Barb  like  a  spirit  crept  noiselessly  to  the  table 
right  behind  Tim,  selected  a  few  of  the  cleanest 
cards  and  as  many  burnt  matches  as  she  could  catch 
up,  and,  creeping  back  to  her  seat,  leaned  over  the 
window,  her  little  heart  beating  like  a  trip-ham- 
mer. 

She  laid  a  knave  of  hearts  face  down  upon  the 
grimy  sill,  and  delicately  removing  the  soft  ash 
from  the  end  of  the  match,  she  wrote  the  following 
upon  the  back  of  the  card,  as  like  print  as  she  could 
make  it : 

"  DEAR  SAL  :  Barb  Pomeroy  is  in  trouble  ;  send 
word  to  Dr.  Wayne — Kensellaer's  Landing,  on  the 
Hudson — that  old  Nan  has  her,  and  that  Barry  is 
worse.  Dear  Sal,  do  this  right  quickly  for 

"  LITTLE  BARB." 

It  took  more  than  half  a  dozen  matches  to  indite 
this  epistle  upon  the  back  of  a  knave  of  hearts,  an 
ace  of  diamonds,  and  ten  of  clubs,  and  by  that  time 
Sal  was  under  the  window,  commencing  her  little 
round  of  popular  airs. 

Barb  took  the  few  cents  from  her  pocket,  and  roll- 


182     LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED. 

ing  the  three  cards  carefully  round  them  in  a  com- 
pact bundle,  pinned  it  securely  together ;  then  tied 
the  end  of  the  reel  of  cotton  from  which  she  had 
been  sewing  round  it,  and  all  was  ready. 

But  now,  how  was  she  to  attract  Sal's  attention, 
that  she  might  see  the  tiny  packet  about  to  be  low- 
ered to  her,  and  prevent  it  from  being  snatched  up 
by  some  hurrying  passenger? 

Barb  peeped  back  into  the  room  for  some  small 
object  which  she  could  throw  down,  but  seeing  noth- 
ing movable,  caught  up  the  scissors  and  cut  a  button 
off  her  own  dress.  She  aimed  it  at  Sal,  but  it  missed 
fire,  and  dropped  on  the  little  boy's  face  as  he  lay 
fast  asleep,  with  his  head  against  the  asthmatic  or- 
gan, and  it  was  evident  by  Sal's  quick  movement 
towards  him,  that  he  had  awakened  with  a  cry  of 
fright. 

The  little  prisoner  watched  with  breathless  sus 
pense,  while  the  woman,  dropping  the  handle,  picked 
up  the  button  and  looked  hither  and  thither  in  angry 
surprise,  to  see  who  had  thrown  it  at  her  darling ; 
but  as  she  did  not  chance  to  look  up,  another  button, 
better  aimed,  dropped  upon  her  shoulder,  and  at  last 
she  did  look  up  from  window  to  window  of  the 
whole  five  stories,  till  from  the  very  top  she  saw  a 
white  face  looking  down,  with  a  great  mass  of  yellow 
hair  floatirg  about  it — for  Barb  had  pulled  it  down 


LITTLE  BARB   WHOM  ANGELS  LOVED.      183 

in  a  mighty  hurry,  that  Sal  might  know  her  better — 
and  a  little  white  hand  waving  and  gesticulating  to 
her.  And  as  she  stood  there,  gaping  and  wondering, 
a  tiny  white  speck  dropped  from  the  waving  hand, 
and  came  down,  down,  down,  spinning  round  and 
round,  and  growing  bigger  and  bigger,  till  she 
caught  it  in  her  own  hand — a  small,  hard  lump  of 
paper,  tied  about  with  a  white  thread. 

"  Shet  the  winder,  will  yer !  "  exclaimed  Tim,  in  a 
rousing  voice.  "  Sal's  gone,  and  the  wind's  like  a 
knife.  "What  in  thunder's  come  of  them  cards?  " 

Barb  shut  the  window  in  trembling  haste,  and 
turned  back  into  the  cheerless  room  to  see  her  jailor 
in  vain  endeavoring  to  play  his  solitary  game  with- 
out the  knave,  ace,  and  ten. 

"  Seems  as  if  you  was  'livened  up  a  bit,"  said  he, 
staring  at  her.  "  All  right,  my  gal,  the  sooner  the 
better,  so's  we'll  go  on  with  that  little  argyment  of 
ours!" 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

WHAT    DEVILS    DID    WITH    HER. 

fTEXT  morning  Barb's  persecutions  began 
again,  but  she  had  not  lain  awake  all  night 
for  nothing ;  she  was  ready  with  a  proposi- 
tion which,  if  conceded  to,  would  stave  them  off  till 
Dr.  Wayne  arrived. 

"  Get  me  my  old  place  in  the  opera  house,"  said  she, 
"  and  I'll  give  you  every  cent  I  earn ;  but  don't 
waste  your  time  and  ruin  my  health  trying  to  force 
me  to  do  what  I  never  will,  though  you  should  tear 
the  flesh  off  my  bones." 

".All  very  fine !  "  flouted  old  Nan.  "  You  won't 
run  away  nor  iiothin',  not  you  ! " 

"  I  dare  say  you'll  take  care  of  that,"  said  Barb  ; 
"  and  it'll  come  to  about  the  same  thing  in  the  end,  I 
guess,  whether  you  try  to  keep  me  here  or  to  keep 
sight  of  me  on  the  streets." 

Old  Nan's  eyes  glistened  with  cupidity.  Barb  was 
so  wonderfully  improved  in  appearance  that  perhaps 
they'd  give  her  a  place  as  principal  of  the  ballet 


WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER.  185 

corps  ;  in  time  she  might  even  rise  to  be  a  walking 
lady  or  a  posturante,  and  then  what  a  mine  of  wealth 
she  would  be  to  theni  ! 

"  If  you  will  promise  faithful  not  to  run  away 
from  us,"  said  Nan,  "  I'll  let  you  do  as  you  like." 

Barb  turned  a  shade  paler,  for  a  struggle  began  in 
her  mind  ;  at  last  she  said,  huskily : 

''I'll  promise  not  to  run  away  if  you'll  just  give 
me  one  afternoon  to  myself  to  go  where  I  like." 

A  derisive  shout  from  the  twain  checked  her. '  Old 
Kan  and  Tim  Poison  were  in  convulsions  of  merri- 
ment at  her  simplicity. 

"No,  no!  Yer  don't  try  that  on  !  "  said  Tim,  when 
lie  could  speak.  "  Ton  was  put  here  jest  for  to  keep 
you  out  o'  other  folks'  business,  and  it  don't  suit  our 
book  to  break  faith  with  the  parties  what  handed  yer 
over  to  us.  Promise  not  to  run  away,  and  we'll  let 
you  go  back  to  the  theatre — that's  square,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Barb,  reviving  again.  "  You  let 
me  earn  my  living  honestly,  and  I'll  work  for  you  till 
I'm  twenty-one,  but  try  to  drive  me  to  do  wrong,  and 
I  warn  you  I'll  make  my  escape  the  first  chance." 

After  considerable  discussion  this  was  agreed  to, 
the  wink  which  was  passed  between  the  comrades  in 
crime  testifying  to  the  fidelity  with  which  they  in- 
tended to  keep  their  part  of  the  bargain,  and  the 
sparkle  in  Barb's  downcast  eye  denoting  how  clearly 


186  WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER 

she  read  their  treachery,  and  how  determined  she  was 
to  frustrate  it. 

Nan  went  anon  to  the  manager,  and  having  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  little  Pomeroy  to  his  mind,  easily  ob- 
tained her  re-engagement,  and  returned  home  elated. 

And  now  commenced  Barb's  rehearsals  of  her  lialf- 
-  forgotten  art,  when,  hurrying  off  to  the  theatre  at  half- 
past  seven  of  the  morning,  with  her  arm  securely 
locked  in  that  of  the  detestable  old  Nan,  she  prac- 
tised poses,  pirouettes,  entrechats,  and  weary  bal- 
ancings on  the  tips  of  her  toes  till  eleven  o'clock,  to 
be  dragged  home  again  to  her  meagre  dinner,  escorted 
back  by  Tim  Poison  at  half -past  one  to  perform  her 
part  in  the  matinee,  returning  at  five  to  a  still  more 
meagre  supper,  and  back  again  at  half-past  seven,  as 
weary  a  little  coryphee  as  one  might  find  the  world 
over,  to  embody  the  "  poetry  of  motion  "  with  what 
enthusiasm  she  might  to  please  the  devotees  of 
Terpsichore. 

And  what  sustained  our  good  little  Barb  through 
this  slavery  ?  The  bope  of  gaining  an  opportunity 
to  send  some  word,  before  it  was  too  late,  to  Kathe- 
rine  Hendrick. 

She  frequently  met  Sal,  the  organ-woman,  loitering 
in  the  street,  but  one  significant  glance  warned  hex 
not  to  accost  her,  and  it  was  the  third  of  February 
before,  in  passing  her,  Sal  was  enabled  to  thrust  into 


WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER.  187 

her  hand,  unobserved,  a  crumpled  piece  of  paper, 
which  told  her  that  Sal  had  written  to  Dr.  Wayne  as 
directed,  and  that  Dr.  Wayne  was  in  town,  waiting 
for  a  message  from  Barb  as  to  what  he  was  to  do  ; 
that  Sal  had  told  him  to  keep  in  the  background, 
knowing  what  "  Turks "  old  Nan  and  Tim  Poison 
were  when  anybody  meddled  in  their  business,  and 
that  there  the  matter  rested. 

It  was  that  very  same  night,  when  Barb  was  lying 
awake  in  the  dismal  closet  thinking,  that  she  over- 
heard a  whispered  conversation  in  the  garret  that 
made  her  blood  boil. 

Nan  was  confiding  to  Tim,  as  an  excellent  piece  of 
news,  that  some  "  swell  cove  "  had  fallen  in  love  with 
Barb  as  she  danced  that  night,  and  had  gone  round 
behind  the  scenes  expressly  to  see  her,  but  had  been 
taken  in  hand  by  Nan  herself,  who  soon  made  a 
"  stunning  "  bargain,  and  he  was  to  run  off  with  the 
poor  little  ballet-dancer  next  night.  And  while  Tim 
Poison  chuckled  in  fiendish  exultation,  and  Nan  set 
forth  her  own  superior  generalship,  their  intended 
victim  lay  quailing  and  weeping,  till  the  thought  of 
the  Hand  that  held  her  ever  calmed  and  comforted 
her,  and  then  she  smiled  at  their  foolish  triumph  and 
went  to  sleep  like  an  infant  on  its  mother's  breast. 

The  morning  before  the  wedding-day,  little  Barb, 
on  the  way  to  her  morning's  practice,  stopped  obsti- 


188  WHAT  DEVILS  DID   WITH  HER. 

nately  beside  Sal's  hand-cart,  and  stooping,  kissed 
the  child. 

"  Stop  that  rot !  "  growled  old  Nan,  dragging  her 
on.  "  Folks  don't  care  much  for  your  fussing  over 
them  if  yer  don't  give  'em  nothin'.  He !  he !  didn't 
I  say  so  ?  Jest  look  at  Sal  grubbiii'  among  the  rags 
to  see  what  yer  gave  Jimmie  beside  soft  sawder  !  " 

Yes,  she  was  grubbing  earnestly  for  something 
else,  and  she  found  it,  too;  a  note  written  in  pencil 
to  Dr.  Wayne. 

"  DEAR  DR.  WAYNE,"  wrote  Barb  as  prettily  as 
freezing  fingers,  no  desk,  a  crumpled  scrap  of  papei\ 
and  a  blunt  pencil  would  permit.  "  I  am  in  great 
trouble.  Nine  days  ago — the  night  of  the  very 
day  you  went  home — I  was  kidnapped  from  niy 
boarding-house  by  the  people  I  used  to  live  so  miser- 
ably with,  and  have  been  kept  so  close  ever  since 
that  I  could  scarcely  get  word  even  to  you.  I  am 
afraid  Barry  is  in  terrible  danger,  but  it's  no  earthly 
use  for  me  to  tell  you  what  that  danger  is,  or  for  you 
to  try  und  see  her.  I  must  escape  somehow  and  do 
what  I  can  myself.  Will  you  be  at  the  Grand  Opera 
House  to-night  in  the  first  row  of  the  orchestra  chairs, 
and  when  a  ballet-dancer  comes  forward  to  the  foot- 
lights and  kneels,  drawing  a  silver  tissue-scarf  over 
her  face,  you'll  know  that  that's  me,  and  that  I've 


WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER.  189 

made  you  a  signal  to  go  round  to  the  stage  entrance 
and  meet  me  there.  Old  ISTan  and  Tim  Poison  are 
sure  to  be  at  hand,  for  they  are  always  on  th.3  look-out 
lest  I  escape  ;  but  I  must  give  tlfem  the  slip  to-night, 
for  they  have  plotted  my  ruin,  and  I  dare  stay  with 
th-'Hii  no  longer.  Altogether  I  am  in  such  a  way 
abcut  Barry  and  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  who  was  so  ill  when 
I  left  her,  and  about  my  fears  for  the  future,  that  I 
scarcely  know  what  I  am  writing.  I  do  hope  you'll 
get  this,  and  understand  it. 

"  Yours,  very  respectfully, 

BAKB." 

And  Dr.  Wayne,  who  had  been  half  beside  himself 
with  bewilderment  and  anxiety,  not  knowing  what 
to  think  of  the  strange  state  of  affairs,  having  read 
this  note,  prepared  to  do  Barb's  bidding,  devoutly 
hoping  that  in  his  first  interview  with  her  light  would 
come  out  of  darkness. 

**'**** 

This  is  really  fairy  like,  is  it  not  ? 

The  lights  are  lowered  through  all  the  house,  and 
a  soft,  tender  radiance  illumines  the  stage,  which  re- 
minds one  of  the  wonderful  caverns  under  the  sea, 
with  their  rocks  of  gold,  and  coral  sprays  of  blushing 
rose;  their  fretted  fronds  of  silver  anclpak  amethyst, 
and  lurid  fire,  and  rich,  red  bronze,  their  floors  of 


190  WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER. 

glistering  sands,  gem-bestrewn,  and  the  faint  green 
haze  of  the  deep  sea  waves  floating  over  all ! 

There  are  glittering  white  stalactites  and  stalag- 
mites in  this  mermaids'  cave,  and  great  brown  rocks 
weed-swathed,  and  wet  green  banks  of  ocean  mosses, 
and  heaps  of  starry  shells,  and  the  loveliest  sylphs 
float  in  and  out  among  the  jagged  columns — bound 
upon  the  rocks,  recline  smiling  upon  the  soft  moss 
couches,  and  bedeck  their  long  yellow  hair  with 
the  starry  shells — singing  all  the  while,  with  shut 
mouths,  the  sweetest,  delicatest  wave-song  ever  you 
heard  in  a  delicious  dream  ! 

And  in  their  midst  rises,  from  glistening  floor  to 
weed-hung  vaulted  roof,  a  pyramid  of  fairy  women, 
kneeling,  reclining,  standing  on  the  opalescent  rocks 
which  form  the  central  object  in  the  cave,  the  three 
at  the  very  apex  upholding  on  their  clasped  hands 
an  earth-maiden,  a  tiny,  white-robed  creature,  who 
gazes  in  wonder  upon  the  pretty  mysteries  of  the 
deep. 

To  the  sound  of  the  mermaid  song  she  floats  down, 
stepping,  with  delicate  foot,  from  hand  to  hand,  until 
she  reaches  the  floor,  where,  with  a  gliding-grace,  she 
begins  her  dance,  at  which  all  the  lovely  mermaids 
gaze  in  admiration. 

Suddenly  she  unwinds  her  scarf  of  silver  tissue 
from  her  slender  waist,  and  floating  in  a  passion  of 


WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER.  191 

pirouettes  right  up  t1)  the  lowered  footlights,  she 
sinks  slowly,  deliciously,  down  to  one  knee,  drawing 
her  gleaming  vail  over  her  strangely  solemn  face. 

As  she  does  this,  two  gentlemen  rise  simultaneous- 
ly, one  from  his  place  in  the  front  row  of  the  orches- 
tra chairs,  the  other  from  his  place  in  the  right-hand 
stage-box,  and  precipitately  leave  the  auditorium. 

As  fae  figurante  whirls  off  the  stage  she  catches  a 
glimpse  of  each  retreating  form,  and  bounds  behind 

the  scenes  like  a  veritable  creature  of  the  air. 
-*•*#### 

"  Hello !  Barb,  what  are  ye  after  ?  Tou  ain't  nigh 
through,  are  ye  ? " 

Old  Nan  sat  half  asleep  in  the  dressing-room 
usually  occupied  by  the  ballet  corps,  and  Barb — the 
earth-maiden — was  tearing  off  her  spangled  robe,  her 
silk  tights,  and  all  the  adjuncts  of  her  impersonation. 

"  Get  your  needle  and  thread  quick  !  "  cried  Barb, 
tossing  the  heap  of  tarletan  into  her  lap.  "  I'm  torn 
to  pieces  and  haven't  ten  minutes  before  I  go  on 
again.  Ugh !  how  I  shiver  ?  I'll  put  on  my  dress 
while  you  mend  me  up." 

With  trembling  fingers  she  did  so,  old  Nan,  mean- 
time, pottering  over  the  lamentable  rents  these  same 
little  fingers  had  deliberately  made  in  the  airy  toilet 
of  the  earth-maiden,  and  then,  throwing  her  shawl 
about  her,  she  ran  to  the  door,  saying : 


192  WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER. 

"  I  must  have  a  look  at  'em  between  the  flats  ;  it's 
as  pretty  as  a  picture." 

"  You  jest  keep  where  you  are  !"  bawled  old  Nan; 
but  she  spoke  to  the  wind.  Barb  was  gone ;  and  the 
distinct  sound  of  the  key  turning  in  the  lock  told  old 
Nan  that  Barb  was  gone  for  good  ! 

She  raved,  she  swore,  she  shouted.  Nobody  heard 
or  heeded  her  in  the  din  of  the  "  Sea  Storm  "  which 
was  transforming  the  Cave  of  the  Mermaids  into  a 
seething  maelstrom. 

Barb,  threading  her  way  among  the  carpenters, 
the  scene-shifters,  the  waiting  actors,  and  such  mis- 
cellanies as  peopled  that  mysterious  region  behind  the 
scenes,  was  congratulating  herself  that  she  was  get- 
ting along  beautifully,  being  neither  accosted  nor  de- 
tained, when,  opening  the  door  and  springing  into  the 
street,  she  was  met  by  a  man  in  a  footman's  livery, 
'who  pinioned  her  arms  in  a  moment  and  held  her  fast. 

By  the  light  of  the  opposite  street  lamp  she  could 
distinctly  see  a  handsome  close  carriage  drawn  up 
exactly  in  front  of  the  stage  entrance,  a  tall  gentle- 
.man  standing  by  the  open  carriage-door,  and  Dr. 
Wayne  hurrying  along  the  pavement  toward  her. 
Several  figures  she  was  aware  of  lurking  in  the 
shadow  of  the  carriage,  and  she  perceived  in  a  mo- 
ment that  she  was  almost  in  the  power  of  the  man  to 
whom  her  persecutors  had  sold  her. 


WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER.  193 

"  Help  !  help  !  "  shrieked  Barb,  struggling  like  a 
little  tigress. 

The  footman  attempted  to  close  her  mouth  with 
his  hand,  and  was  reinforced  in  a  moment  by  the  men 
who  were  in  waiting.  Hugh  Wayne  darted  forward, 
with  one  vigorous  blow  felled  the  man  who  held  her 
to  the  ground,  and  seized  her  in  his  arms.  She  clung 
to  him  frantically,  continuing  her  shrill  cries  for  help, 
while  Hugh  fought  off  his  assailants  as  best  he  could 
retreating  step  by  step  back  to  the  stage  entrance, 
Meanwhile  the  tramp  of  feet  hurrying  toward  the 
spot,  and  the  distant  whistle  of  a  policeman,  warned 
the  combatants  that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 

"  Dash  it  all,  colonel !  "  roared  Tim  Poison's  voice, 
"ye  see  she  won't  come  by  fair  means.  I'll  hev  to 
settle  this  business  my  own  way." 

"  No  violence,  my  man,"  returned  the  gentleman 
who  stood  at  the  coach  door.  "  Barbara  Pomeroy," 
continued  he,  "  I'm  not  going  to  harm  you ;  I  give 
you  my  word " 

"  Villain  !  "  interposed  Hugh  Wayne,  hotly,  "  you 
shall  never  obtain  possession  of  this  good  girl  but 
over  my  body  ! " 

In  his  turn  he  was  interrupted  by  a  blow  on  the 
temple  from  the  sledge-hammer  fist  of  Tim  Poison, 
which  sent  him  reeling  to  the  pavement.  Barb  was 

torn  from  him,  her  frantic  cries  smothered  in  tho 
9 


194  WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER. 

folds  of  her  thick  shawl,  and  feeling  herself  hustled 
into  the  coach,  the  gentleman  receiving  her  in  a  vice- 
like  grasp,  and  the  coach  dashing  off  at  full  speed,  an 
awful  panic  seized  her,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  fainted. 

When  Barb  recovered  her  senses  she  found  herself 
lying  on  a  sofa  in  a  handsomely  furnished  room,  with 
an  old  lady,  in  stiff  black  silk  and  handsome  furs, 
bending  over  her. 

Barb  sprang  from  the  sofa,  uttering  a  faint  cry ; 
then  seeing  that  110  one  else  was  in  the  room, 
she  went  back  to  the  lady  dizzily,  and  catching 
her  by  the  sleeve,  exclaimed  with  intense  earnest- 
ness : 

"  If  you  have  any  mercy  in  you — if  you  have  ever 
had  a  daughter  and  loved  her — if  you  hope  for  mercy 
yourself  when  you  come  to  die,  let  me  escape  from 
the  man  who  brought  me  here ! " 

The  lady  regarded  her  with  a  stern  and  stony 
gaze. 

"  My  commands  are  to  let  him  know  whenever  you 
are  recovered ;  I  can  listen  to  nothing  you  say,"  re- 
plied she,  releasing  herself.  And,  in  spite  of  Barb's 
frantic  prayers  and  endeavors  to  detain  her,  she  in- 
stantly left  the  room. 

Little  Barb  stood  motionless.  Where  was  her  help 
to  come  from  now  ?  Had  the  hour  at  last  arrived 


WHAT  DEVILS  DN)    WITH  HER.  195 

when  she  must  defend  her  honor  with  her  life  ?  Her 
pale  face  grew  paler,  her  sweet  eyes  kindled,  she 
drew  a  long,  shuddering  sigh,  she  glanced  at  herself 
in  the  tall  mirror  opposite,  with  a  strange,  solemn 
smile. 

"  Good-by,  Barb,"  whispered  she,  "  you  may  never 
see  yourself  on  earth  again  !  " 

She  passed  quickly  round  the  room,  looking  for 
some  chance  of  escape  or  of  summoning  help  ;  then 
flew  to  one  of  the  long  windows,  and,  touching  the 
spring,  threw  it  wide  open. 

Far  beneath  glittered  the  wide  street,  sprinkled 
with  lights  of  carriages  returning  from  opera  and 
theatre.  She  rested  one  knee  on  the  sill,  holding  on 
by  the  rich  lace  curtain — and  waited. 

Strange  sight  for  the  gentleman  who  flung  open 
the  door  and  strode  in  with  black  eyes  flashing  under 
his  frowning  brows ! 

There  she  stood,  the  tiny  figure,  in  its  modest  gray 
gown,  with  the  forgotten  crown  of  the  "  earth-maiden" 
still  glittering  in  her  unbound  yellow  hair,  the  great, 
greenish,  glistening  stage-jewels  still  twinkling  in  her 
ears  and  at  her  throat,  her  face  blanched  death-white, 
her  great  pulsating  eyes  filled  with  supernatural  light, 
and  the  yawning  window  and  black  night  behind  her ! 

He  stood  transfixed,  his  back  against  the  door,  and 
a  wave  of  wonder  and  grief  passed  over  her  ghastly 


196  WHAT  DEVILS  DID    WITH  HER. 

f aco.  A  few  moments  of  dead  silence,  and  she  spoko 
in  a  hushed  voice. 

"  Mr.  Roscoe,"  said  poor  little  Barb,  "  is  it  you  who 
want  to  do  me  this  great  wrong  ?  " 

Lionel  Roscoe !  Yes,  it  was  no  other  than  he  who 
was  her  abductor. 


CHAPTEE  XY. 

A   PRINCESS   OF   EARTH   AND   A  PRINCESS   OF   HEAVEN. 

# 

'ISEEABLE  woman ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Eoscoe, 
closing  the  door ;  "  it  comes  ill  from  you  to 
speak  of  wrong.     Come,  this  folly  shall  not 
serve  you.     Eetire  from  that  window  instantly." 

All  his  stern  scorn  of  her  spoke  in  his  tone  and 
glance.  Perplexed,  she  came  out  of  the  niche  a  step, 
gazing  at  him  half-affrightedly,  half -eagerly. 

"  Why  have  you  brought  me  here,  if  it  was  you 
who  did  so?"  asked  she. 

"  To  force  you  to  declare  the  truth  to  Miss  Hen- 
drick  before  it  is  too  late." 

Barb  came  out  of  the  niche  altogether,  a  flash  of 
joy  lighting  up  her  face. 

"It  is  not  too  late  yet,  then!"  cried  she.  "Oh, 
thank  God  !  I  feared  it  was.  Miss  Hendrick  is  going 
to  be  married  to-morrow  morning,  isn't  she  ? " 

Eoscoe  bowed  :  he  was  considerably  disconcerted  at 
her  eagerness  to  comply  with  his  wishes. 

"  You  have  no  objection,  apparently,"  said  he,  "  to 


198      A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

publish  your  own  infamy,  and  that  of  Harrison  Fair- 
leigh,  to  the  injured  lady." 

"  My  infamy  !  "  faltered  Barb,  crimsoning.  "  What 
do  you  mean,  sir  ? " 

"  You  know  well,"  retorted  he,  disdainfully. 
"  Since  the  day  I  saw  you  with  him  in  Madison  Park 
I  have  remembered  the  name  of  Barbara  Pomeroy, 
and  done  my  best  to  bring  the  shameful  history  of  its 
owner  to  light." 

She  looked  at  him  in  stricken  silence  for  a  moment, 
then  all  the  pride  of  innocence  burst  forth.  She 
stepped  up  to  him,  fearless  enough  now,  and,  cresting 
her  little  head,,  said,  sternly : 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  girl,  sir,  and  I  have  no  one  to 
defend  my  good  name  but  myself  ;  you  are  cowardly 
to  traduce  it ;  you  are  false,  too,  for  my  name  is  all 
I  have,  and  it  is  as  spotless  as  any  woman's  in  all 
America  ! " 

Roscoe  received  this  with  a  cold,  derisive  smile. 

"This  is  of  course,"  said  he.  "  Faiiieigh's  mis- 
tress has  doubtless  been  well  bribed  to  attest  to  her 
own  and  Faiiieigh's  purity  !  " 

"Sir!"  cried  she,  passionately.  "Gentleman 
though  you  are,  I  will  not  be  insulted  by  you.  Leave 
me !  Leave  me,  I  say !  " 

.  Mr.  Koscoe  retreated  a  few  steps,  amazed  at  the 
flashing  anger  of  the  little  creature  before  him,  and 


A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.      199 

considerably  affected  by  it,  notwithstanding  his  pre- 
conceived opinion  concerning  her. 

"  If  I  wrong  you,  girl,"  said  he,  "  I  heartily  beg 
your  pardon,  though,  in  that  case  I  confess,  I  should 
hardly  deserve  it ;  but  appearances  are  sadly  against 
you.  What  was  the  subject  of  your  conversation  with 
Mr.  Fairleigh  when  I  came  upon  you  in  Madison 
Square  ?  Were  you  not  threatening  him — doubtless 
having  heard  of  his  approaching  marriage — with  the 
future  vengeance  of  Barbara  Poineroy  ?  For  what 
purpose  did  you  visit  Mrs.  Fairleigh's  house  so  fre- 
quently during  Mr.  Fairleigh's  illness?  Why  did 
Barbara  Poineroy  require  Miss  Leith  to  plead  her 
cause  at  the  masqued  ball  ?  And,  above  all,  why 
have  you  suddenly  disappeared  from  your  boarding- 
house  without  leaving  a  single  clue  by  which  any 
one  might  trace  you,  if  my  worst  suspicions  are  not 
correct,  and  Mr.  Fairleigh  has  not  succeeded  in  buy- 
ing your  sitence  ?  " 

Barb  listened  with  growing  consternation — appear- 
ances were  indeed  sadly  against  her.  How  could  she 
defend  herself?  She  could  think  of  but  the  one 
way,  a  very  easy  and  simple  way,  namely,  to  put  the 
shoe  on  the  right  foot — to  refer  him  to  the  other 
Barbara  Pomeroy.  She  turned  away  with  a  quick 
gasp,  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 


200      A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

This  looked  so  like  guilt  that  Lionel  Roscoe  scowled 
at  her  with  positive  loathing. 

"  Besides  all  this,"  continued  he,  ruthlessly,  "  it  is 
enough  to  shake  one's  faith  in  any  woman's  purity 
to  find  her  actually  for  sale  as  the  property  of  two  of 
the  worst  characters  that  ever  plied  their  infamous 
calling.  How  is  it  that  with  your  claims  to  a  good 
name,  I  was  able  to  buy  you  from  that  woman  ? " 

Barb  flashed  up  again,  quivering  with  anguish  and 
indignation. 

"Are  you  blind?"  said  she,  bitterly.  "Did  I  go 
with  you  willingly?  Did  you  not  carry  me  off  by 
violence  ? " 

"  Explained,"  said  he,  "  by  another  lover  being  on 
the  ground  before  me." 

"  He  was  no  lover  of  mine,"  said  she.  "  I  ap- 
pealed to  him  to  help  me  to  escape  from  these 
wretches  who  have  dared  to  sell  me  to  you,  and  you 
would  have  found,  had  you  really  bought  me,  that  I 
knew  how  to  defend  myself  as  a  good  woman 
should  ! " 

"  All  this  I  am  willing — I  am  anxious  to  believe," 
said  Roscoe,  struck  once  more,  in  spite  of  himself, 
by  the  mere  power  of  truth.  "  You  have  only  to 
explain  matters  as  they  really  are — surely  that  is  not 
a  difficult  thing  if  you  are  really  guiltless." 

To   explain    matters !    Barb    sank    down    again, 


A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.    201 

rushed.  To  say  Marah  Leith  is  an  impostor  and 
has  played  a  wicked  part  for  vengeance !  Tears 
streamed  from  her  eyes,  convulsive  sobs  rent  her 
innocent  breast. 

"I  can't  explain !"  gasped  she.  "Don't  ask  me 
to  explain !  Oh,  this  is  cruel — cruel !  I  had  only 
my  good  name,  and  they  have  taken  that  from  me ! " 

"  Enough  of  this !  "  said  Roscoe,  harshly,  feeling 
utterly  disgusted  with  her  obstinacy.  "It  grows 
late ;  you  must  come  with  me  at  once  to  Baron  Ilen- 
drick's  house,  where  I  trust  we  shall  find  means  to 
induce  you  to  speak  the  truth." 

Barb  looked  up  terror-stricken. 

"  I  am  willing  to  speak  to  Miss  Ilendrick,"  said 
she,  "  and  I  thaak  Heaven  for  giving  rne  the  chance, 
but  don't  ask  rne  to  speak  before  the  baron  and 
baroness." 

Roscoe  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightingly. 

"  You  are  scarcely  the  character  whom  one  would 
trust  in  a  private  interview  vyth  one  whom  you 
doubtless  presume  to  consider  your  rival.  However, 
Miss  Ilendrick  shall  judge  of  that  for  herself,  and 
we  shall  devise  means  to  protect  her  from  either 
insolence  or  violence.  I  shall  now  call  in  Mrs. 
Archer,  the  baroness's  housekeeper,  whom  I  pre- 
vailed upon  to  accompany  me  upon  this  mission  in 

the  interests  of  my  own  reputation." 
9* 


202   A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

He  left  the  room,  returning  a  few  minutes  after- 
ward with  a  lady  in  stiff  silk,  who,  grimly  taking 
possession  of  Barb  by  the  arm,  marched  her  through 
the  spacious  corridor,  and  down  the  stairs  of  the 
ladies'  entrance,  to  Baron  Heiidrick's  carriage,  which 
awaited  Mr.  Roscoe's  pleasure. 

On  the  way,  Barb  said  to  Mrs.  Archer — Mr.  Roscoe 
not  having  deigned  to  enter  the  carriage  in  such 
company,  preferring  the  driver's  seat — 

"  I  must  see  Miss  Hendrick  alone ;  I  can't  say  a 
word  unless  I  see  her  alone.  Will  you  plead  with 
Mr.  Roscoe  for  me  ?  And  oh !  don't  tell  the  baron 
or  the  baroness  that  I  am  with  her ;  let  her  tell  it 
herself,  if  she  wishes  to  do  so,  after  I  have  told  her 
the  thing  I  have  on  my  mind." 

Mrs.  Archer  answered,  with  dignity : 

"  Young  woman,  I  don't  know  who  or  what  you 
are,  and  I  don't  approve  of  this  expedition — 7iot  one 
step  of  it.  I  have  other  things  to  attend  to  on  my 
young  lady's  wedding-eve  than  the  raking  up  of  old 
secrets,  I  think." 

When-  they  arrived  at  Baron  Hend'rick's  door,  it 
was  fifteen  minutes  to  twelve  o'clock. 

Every  window  was  dark  except  those  in  the 
area,  behind  which  the  busy  cooks  still  flitted  to  and 
fro. 

''All  abed   and   asleep,  Mrs.  Archer,"  said  Mr. 


A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.    203 

Roscoe,  appearing  at  the  carriage  door.  "  Please  go 
up  and  awake  Miss  Hendrick.  Tell  her  I  must  see 
her.  Tell  her  that  I  implore  her  by  her  future 
happiness  not  to  deny  me." 

The  disapproving  housekeeper  conducted  the  un- 
timely guests  into  a  cold,  vacant  parlor,  lit  the  gas, 
and  solemnly  ascended  the  stairs. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  the  exact  truth  to  Miss  Hen- 
drick, as  far  as  it  concerns  her,"  said  Barb,  "  but  I 
want  to  beg  you  not  to  arouse  her  father  and  mother 
unless  she  wishes  it.  She  may  decide  to  let  the 
marriage  take  place."  w 

"  She  shall  decide  everything,"  replied  Mr.  Roscoe, 
haughtily. 

Mrs.  Archer  reappeared. 

"  Miss  Hendrick  is  not  in  bed  yet,"  said  she ;  "  will 
'you  walk  up  to  her  parlor  ? " 

Mr.  Roscoe,  signing  Barb  to  follow,  obeyed.  They 
entered  Miss  Ilend rick's  beautiful  little  parlor,  where 
Mrs.  Archer  had  lit  the  gas,  and  presently  Miss  Hen- 
drick's  chamber  door  opened  a  little  way,  and  she 
said,  sharply : 

"  "What  now,  Lionel  ?     This  "is  a  late  visit !  " 

Nothing  was  seen  of  the  lady,  save  her  slender 
white  hand  holding  the  door  ajar ;  but  there  was  a 
nameless  expression  in  her  voice  which  startled  Mr. 
Roscoe,  and  aroused  Barb's  curiosity  to  see  the  con- 


204     A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

cealed  face  of  the  owner.  Mr.  Roscoe,  speaking 
through  the  aperture,  replied  in  a  low  voice,  and  at 
some  length.  She  interrupted  him  fiercely. 

"Is  it  worth  while  to  torture  me  with  your 
suspicions  now  ?  Don't  you  see  that  you  co.ne  too 
late?" 

"  Never  too  late,  Katherine,  till  the  fatal  knot  is 
tied  !  "  exclaimed  he,  pleadingly.  "  Oh,  don't  blind 
your  eyes  any  longer !  Let  me  save  you  !  " 

"  Save  me,  Lionel  ?  O  God  !  "  aspirated  the  bride- 
elect,  and  then  she  laughed  a  little  dreadful  laugh. 

"•The  girl  may  see  you,  Katherine  ? "  asked  he, 
anxiously. 

"  What  girl  ?  Oh  !  Your  witness  against  my 
lover.  Well,  well,  what  does  it  matter  now  ?  "  mut- 
tered she.  "  Yes,  Lionel,  send  her  in." 

"  I  fear  for  you — she  may  be  desperate — let  me 
wait  within  call,"  pleaded  Roscoe. 

"  Tush !  She  cannot  trouble  me"  said  the  lady. 
"  I  am  beyond  such  tiny  stings.  Come  in,  girl,  I'll 
hear  you." 

She  opened  the  door,  keeping  her  person  so  jea- 
lously concealed  behind  it,  that  Mr.  Koscoe  could  not 
catch  one  glimpse  of  her. 

Barb  passed  in,  and  the  door  was  instantly  shut. 

They  stood  face  to  face,  each  pale  as  death ;  but 
while  Barb's  little  heart  beat  to  suffocation,  Miss  Hen- 


A  PRI&CESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEA  VEN.      205 

drick  seemed  cold  as  ice.  She  had  laid  aside  her  rich 
evening-dress,  and  in  a  flowing  white  dressing-robe, 
with  her  long,  deep  chestnut  hair  streaming  over  her 
shoulders,  and  that  fixed  and  fatal  look  in  her  face, 
she  struck  the  young  girl  with  an  unutterable  dread. 

The  dressing-room,  which  Barb  could  see  through 
the  opposite  door,  which  was  open,  was  brightly 
lighted,  and  presented  glimpses  of  the  bridal-robes 
laid  out  for  the  morrow  ;  the  foam-white  bridal  veil 
of  priceless  lace,  the  glimmering  white  pearl  set, 
shining  in  their  open  casket — everything  laid  ready, 
even  to  the  fairy  satin  shoes  buckled  with  crescents 
of  iridescent  pearls. 

"  What  ill  news  do  you  bring,  girl  ?  "  demanded 
Ivatherine,  seating  herself  once  more  beside  the  gilded 
tea-poy,  and  laying  her  delicate  bare  arm  across  an 
open  letter  which  lay  upon  it. 

"  Oh,  lady,  you  know,  you  know  already  ! "  said 
Barb.  "'  Something  dreadful  has  happened,  or  you 
would  not  look  so." 

"  Something  has  happened,"  said  Katherine,  in  a 
faint  voice,  "  and  it  appears  that  all  the  world  knew 
that  it  was  to  happen,  and  no  one  thought  it  worth 
while  to  warn  me  in  time." 

"You  have  found  out  that  he  loves  Barbara  Pome- 
roy,"  faltered  Barb,  "but  that  isn't  what  I  wished 
most  to  say  to  you." 


206   A  PMINCESS  OF  EAETB  AND  HEAVEN. 

The  lady  lifted  her  arm  and  looked  at  the  letter 
with  a  strange  smile. 

"  Ah,  yes ! "  sighed  she.  "  He  loves  her — how  he 
loves  her ! " 

"  I  wished  to  put  you  on  your  guard,"  said  Barb, 
weeping.  "  I've  known  Barry  a  long  while,  and  he 
has  sported  with  her  love  so  cruelly,  that  I  am  per- 
fectly sure  she  means  to  take  some  dreadful  revenge 
on  you  or  on  him." 

Katherine  waved  her  hand  impatiently. 

"I  know  all  this  already,"  said  she,  in  a  hollow 
voice.  "  She  will  take  no  vengeance  upon  him,  she 
has  wreaked  it  all  upon  me." 

She  thrust  her  beautiful  hands  into  her  hair,  and 
bending  over  the  letter,  forgot  Barb's  presence ;  and 
a  long,  death-like  silence  ensued. 

Barb  wept  bitterly,  but  wiped  the  tears  away  as 
fast  as  they  fell,  restraining  her  sobs,  lest  she  should 
disturb  the  unhappy  bride-elect. 

What  had  Barry  done  ?  AVhat  was  this  letter  which 
moved  her  so  ? 

At  last,  Mr.  Roscoe  tapped  at  the  door,  calling 
anxiously: 

"  Miss  Hendrick,  what  is  the  matter  ?  I  don't  hear 
you  speak." 

She  started,  looking  about  her  in  a  bewildered  way, 
then  seeing  Barb,  and  recollecting  her  surroundings, 


A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.     207 

she  rose  slowly,  moaning  to  herself :  "  No  peace  !  no 
peace ! " 

She  opened  the  door  as  before,  just  enough  to  speak 
through. 

"  Do  go  away,  Lionel ! "  said  she,  bitterly.  "  Why 
do  you  haunt  me  ? " 

"  Has  she  told  you,  Kate  ? "  said  he,  his  deep  voice 
shaking. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  know  all !  "  answered  she,  with  forced 
composure.  "  Shocking !  Is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  Kate,  let  me  see  you,  dear  ! "  exclaimed  he, 
impetuously.  "  This  is  too  much  for  you.  Come 
out  here  and  let  me  comfort  you." 

"No!  no!"  muttered' she,  shrinking  back.  "I 
can't  see  anybody.  How  the  world  will  laugh  at  me 
to-morrow,  won't  it,  Lionel  ? "  she  added,  a  pecu- 
liarly ghastly  smile  playing  on  her  bloodless  fea- 
tures. 

"  Don't  think  of  that,  Katherine ;  be  thankful  that 
you  have  escaped  him,  and  that  this  marriage,  which 
would  have  doomed  you  to  a  life  of  misery,  will  never 
take  place." 

"  Never  !  Never ! "  echoed  Katherine,  wringing 
her  hands. 

"  Shall  I  bring  your  mother  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Roscoe, 
piteously. 
•    Katherine  threw  a  glance  into  the  radiant  dress- 


208     A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

ing-room,  and  another  at  the  open  letter  lying  where 
she  had  laid  it,  and  gasped  out : 

"  No,  no !  Not  to-night !  Leave  me — leave  them 
all  in  peace  this  one  night  more.  It  is  enough  that 
grief  and  disgrace  should  come  with  the  dawn  of 
daylight !  " 

"  The  girl  need  not  torture  you  any  longer  with 
her  presence,  need  she  ?  "  inquired  her  cousin. 

"No,"  said  Katherine,  "you  may  take  her  away." 

She  stopped,  for  Barb's  little  hands  fell  hot  and 
nervous  upon  her  arm. 

"  .Don't  send  me  away  !  "  pleaded  she,  vehemently. 
"I'm  afraid — afraid  to  leave  you  alone.  Let  me 
watch  by  you." 

Katherine  glanced  at  her  vacantly,  but  half  com- 
prehending her  words. 

"What  does  she  say?"  inquired  Roscoe,  curi- 
ously. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Katherine.  "  I  think  she 
wants  to  stay  with  me." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Boscoe,  in  a  shocked  voice. 
"  Send  the  insolent  wretch  away  immediately." 

"  No !  no !  no ! "  cried  Barb,  looking  up  in  the 
lady's  large  fathomless  eyes,  in  an  agony  of  en- 
treaty. "  Let  me  stay  with  you  to-night.  I'm  afraid 
of  Barry  Pomeroy  !  Oh,  let  me  stay  here  to  save  her 
from  crime  and  you  from  danger  !  " 


A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.      209 

Katherine's  glance  grew  less  distraught ;  she  lis- 
tened with  attention  to  this. 

"  Do  you  expect  my  rival  to  murder  me  to-night  ?  " 
said  she,  in  measured  tones.  "  You  need  not ;  she 
has  taken  a  vengeance  far  more  cruel  upon  me. 
However,  since  I  see  that  you  are  really  alarmed, 
and  that  you  would  only  arouse  the  house  if  I  sent 
you  away,  you  shall  have  your  wish.  You  shall  stay 
with  me  to-night,  npon  condition  that  you  sleep  on  a 
sofa  in  the  parlor,  and  don't  come  near  me  unless  I 
call  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  murmured  Barb,  gratefully. 

Ivatherine  opened  the  door  again. 

"  I  wish  this  girl  to  remain  with  me  to-night,"  said 
she.  "Make  no  objections,  for  I  must  and  will  have 
it  so ;  she  has  much  to  tell  me  before  I  sleep  this 
night." 

"  You  amaze  me ! "  said  Mr.  Roscoe,  in  horror. 
"  Are  you  sure  you  can  trust  yourself  with  her  ? " 

"  I  am  safer  with  her  than  with  myself,"  said  Kathe- 
rine.  "  Do  leave  me,  please,  and  madden  me  no 
more  by  your  continual  objections!" 

This  she  cried  with  such  a  sudden  frantic  outburst 
of  impatience  that  Ror.coe  was  cowed,  and  ventured 
to  oppose  her  no  longer , 

"  I  shall,  writh  your  permission,  stay  in  your  parlor 
to-night,"  said  he. 


210     A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

"  You  can't,"  said  she,  "  she  is  to  sleep  there." 

"  I  shall  be  within  hearing  somewhere,"  answered 
he,  doggedly,  "  if  anything  happens,  call  me." 

"Nothing  shall  happen,"  said  she,  between  her 
teeth,  "  that  you  can  prevent." 

She  then  put  out  her  hand  through  the  narrow  slit, 
whispering,  with  a  sob  : 

"  Good-night,  Lionel !  Good-night!"  lie  pressed 
it  fervently  and  held  it,  muttering : 

"  The  wretch  !— But  he  shall  pay  for  this  dearly  !  "• 

"  Go  !  "  cried  she,  shrilly.  "  You  only  know  how 
to  torture  me !  "  And  she  shut  the  door  in  his  face, 
and  throwing  herself  into  her  chair,  leaned  her  head 
upon  the  little  table  where  the  open  letter  lay,  and 
there  remained  motionless,  as  if  dead. 

Barb  watched  her  in  awed  silence  for  a  long,  long 
while  ;  then  her  tender  pity  burst  through  all  barriers; 
and,  kneeling  at  her  side,  she  wound  her  arms  about 
the  unhappy  lady's  waist,  exclaiming : 

"  Oh,  Miss  Hendrick,  give  him  up  willingly,  cos' 
Jesus  asks  ye  to,  and  then  He'll  help  ye  to  bear  yer 
sorrow,  sure ! " 

The  belle  of  many  balls  roused  herself,  shuddering. 

"  My  prayers,"  muttered  she,  huskily.  "  Yes,  I 
must  not  forget  them  to-night.  Great  God !  has  it 
come  to  this  !  " 

She  rose,  scarcely  noticing  her  simple  comforter, 


A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.     211 

and  paced  up  and  down  her  beautiful  room,  her  white 
lips  moving  voicelessly. 

Suddenly  she  stopped,  with  a  bitter  wintry  smile 
of  scorn. 

"  He  does  not  hear  me;  bah!  prayers  are  not  for 
the  proud,  whose  pride  is  blasted,"  she  said.  "  Heigh 
ho !  my  day  is  done,  now  for  my  night.  Little  one," 
she  exclaimed,  turning  abruptly  to  Barb,  with  a  kind- 
ness all  the  more  winning,  that  it  came  out  of  her  un- 
utterable suffering.  "Blighted  pride  is  hard  to  bear, 
but  blighted  love  is  harder.  I  thought  I  had  no 
heart — I  gloried  that  I  had  no  heart.  (Take  these, 
child)  " — she  was  undressing,  and  had  handed  Barb 
some  laces — "  but,  to-night,  I  have  learned  differ- 
ently. Alas !  alas !  I  loved  him,  little  one ;  he  was 
sweet,  -  sweet,  to  my  love-honored  soul !  I  could 
have  parted  with  my  beauty — (put  these  in  yonder 
casket) — I  could  have  parted  with  my  popularity,  my 
wealth — anything  but  his  love !  Oh,  fond,  blind  fool, 
to  build  my  all  upon  a  mortal ! " 

"  Sweet  lady,  there  is  One  who  never  deceives  us," 
sobbed  little  Barb. 

"  Too  late,  He  despises  my  folly — too  late ! "  groaned 
Katheri'ne. 

"  Hush,  child,  you  are  mistaken,  the  meek  and  the 
simple  may  make  comfort  in  such  thoughts,  but  not 
the  desperate !  Don't  weep  so.  Ah,  for  tears  like 


212     A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

hers !  Fetch  me  a  string  of  pearls  from  the  jewel 
case  in  that  room.  His  present  to  his  bride  !  Ha  ! 
ha !  And  -she  shall  wear  them,  too !  Oh,  Harrison  ! 
Harrison !  Harrison ! 

Blinded  with  tears,  Barb  went  and  fetched  the 
open  casket,  on  which  reposed,  lapped  in  blush-rose 
satiny  a  magnificent  necklace  of  starry  pearls,  tied 
with  a  gold  cord  and  tassels. 

Katherine  received  it  from  her  with  a  terrible 
eagerness  which  she  remembered  afterward,  with 
many  a  vain  tear  that  hers  should  have  been  the 
hand  which  offered  it. 

The  miserable  bride-elect  lifted  the  beautiful  thing, 
and  passed  it  through  her  long,  ivory-like  fingers,  ex- 
amining the  massive  gold  setting  as  each  gem  in 
turn,  and  at  last,  holding  up  the  shimmering  bauble 
which  gleamed  like  a  string  of  lights,  with  a  frenzied 
smile  of  exultation  :  — 

"His  gift!"  whispered  she,  too  utterly  absorbed 
to  heed  her  listener.  "  He  shall  know  that  I  loved 
him,  when  he  hears  that  I  wore  them  to-night !  Pre- 
cious— precious  gift !  " 

She  kissed  the  gems  wildly. 

Barb  looked  on  ;  a  chill  sense  of  inexplicable  fear 
upon  her. 

"  It  is  late,"  she  ventured;  "  do  let  me  put  you  to 
bed.  Sleep  will  do  you  good.  Oh,  that  you  could 


A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.      213 

have  rest— the  best  kind  of  rest,  dear  Miss  Hen- 
drick!" 

"It  is  time  to  sleep — to  be  at  rest,"  answered 
Katherine,  and  she  finished  her  toilet,  having  placed 
the  string  of  pearls  upon  the  open  letter. 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,"  said  she,  turning  to 
Barb,  "  but  I  think  you  have  felt  for  me  to-night.  I 
am  a  proud  woman,  and  I  could  not  accept  my  pa- 
rents' pity,  or  the  hard  world's  condolence — I  can 
accept  yours,  because  you  are  too  humble  to  feel  any 
superiority  while  you  give  it.  1  thank  you  for  your 
kindness.  You  will  never  regret  having  shown  it  to 
the  heart-broken  Katherine  Hendrick.  And  now, 
good-night ! " 

She  drew  Barb  toward  her,  kissed  her  on  the  fore- 
head, and  gently  pushed  her  from  the  room,  closing 
the  door  softly  behind  her. 

Barb  gathered  her  shawl  around  her,  lowered  the 
gas,  and  sitting  down  on  the  carpet  beside  Miss  ITen- 
drick's  bed-room  door,  and,  laying  her  head  against 
the  rosewood  panel,  began  her  night's  vigil.  She 
heard  the  muffled  tramp,  tramp,  of  Lionel  Roscoe  in 
the  passage  outside,  and  the  musical  tick  of  the  bijou 
clock  on  the  parlor  mantel-piece,  but  no  sound  came 
from  the  lady's  chamber,  and  gradually  she  lost  con- 
sciousness, and  slept. 

But  she  dreamed  of  a  mysterious  sound,  such  as 


214     A  PRINCESS  OF  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN. 

she  had  never  in  her  life  hoard,  and  waking  with  he: 
hair  on  end,  and  her  heart  throbbing  wildly,  she 
found  the  sounds  were  a  reality. 

She  rushed  into  Miss  Hendrick's  i-oom.  She  found 
her  lying  on  her  bed ;  their  eyes  met,  Barb  uttered 
one  fearful,  piercing  shriek,  threw  herself  upon  her 
— there  was  a  short,  fierce  struggle — then  she  sank 
down  senseless. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 
BARRY'S  REVENGE. 

the  reader  desire  his  memory  to  be  re- 
$  freshed  upon  the  movements  of  Barry  Pome- 

"^  -J* 

roy  in  connection  with  Harrison  Fairleigh,  which 
were  last  recorded?  To  catch  up  the  thread  of  her 
scheme,  a  reprint  of  her  last  letter  to  him  will  he 
necessary.  He  received  it  the  day  before  the  wed- 
ding, on  the  fourth  of  February.  She  wrote  : 

"HARBISON:  Lionel  Eoscoe  is  mysterious.  He 
is  evidently  resolved  to  bring  Barbara  Pomeroy  and 
you  together,  if  he  can,  before  it  is  too  late.  Tell 
me  once  more  how  you  love  me,  how  you  honor  me ; 
let  me  read  with  my  eyes  what  I  have  so  often  drunk 
in  with  my  ears,  all  you  intend  to  do  for  me  for  true 
love's  sake ;  and  if  my  heart  echoes  to  your  words,  as 
I  hope  it  will,  you  shall  find  me  in  Room  No.  71, 
Hotel,  at  midnight  of  this  the  fourth  of  Febru- 
ary, ready  to  go  where  you  will. 

"  For  the  last  time,  I  remain, 

"  Your  faithful 

"BARBARA  POMEROY." 


216  BARRY'S  REVENGE. 

The  letter  with  which  Fairleigh  answered  this 
crafty  appeal,  made  only,  as  the  reader  guesses,  to 
force  the  deluded  fool  to  commit  his  perfidy  to 
paper,  ran  in  the  following  high  pressure  style  : 

"  MY  BARBARA  :  For  surely  Satan  himself  would 
be  too  merciful  to  snatch  you  from  me  now — what 
can  I  say  to  prove  the  intensity  of  my  passion  for 
you  that  I  have  not  said  a  thousand  times  with  more 
burning  fervor — my  lips  upon  your  white  hand — than 
I  can  ever  hope  to  write  it  ?  Oh,  Barbara  Pomeroy  ! 
you  know  too  well  the  unutterable  power  you  have 
over  me  ;  that  for  love  of  you  I  am  ready,  nay,  eager, 
to  throw  behind  me  all  that  makes  men's  lives  worth 
the  living — honor,  the  world's  approval,  social  posi- 
tion, even  to  my  sworn  faith  with  Katherine  Ilendrick. 
Can  man  do  more  for  woman  than  this  ?  And  in  the 
anticipation  of  the  bliss  of  calling  you  my  wife,  I 
glory  in  the  opportunity  of  thus  manifesting  the  de- 
votion which  has  so  long  consumed  me.  The  sneers 
of  the  world,  the  fury  of  Miss  Ilendrick,  the  darken- 
ing of  all  my  future  prospects  seem  as  a  mere  breath 
compared  with  the  ecstacy  of  the  happiness  I  purchase 
at  their  expense.  If  you  will  deign  to  be  my  wife, 
sweet  Barbara  Pomeroy,  I  shall  count  myself  the 
most  enviable  man  alive ;  and  despising  all  I  once 
held  precious,  will  seek  felicity  in  your  dear  love,  till 


BARRY'S  REVENGE.  217 

ruthless  death  wrests  us  from  each  other's  arms. 
Yes,  my  queen,  I  meet  you  at  midnight,  no  more  to 
part.  My  particular  friend,  the  Rev.  Horace  Dallas, 
will  accompany  me  to  the  hotel,  to  tie  the  indissolu- 
ble bonds  which  will  make  us  one  forever.  Till  then, 
my  first,  my  last,  my  only  beloved,  beside  whom  all 
others  pale  into  repulsive  spectres,  farewell,  from  him 
whom  you  have  taught  to  adore  you  only  too  well. 

"  HAKRISON." 

This  missive  we  have  seen  Barry  place  in  Kathe- 
rine  Hendrick's  hand ;  this  missive  we  have  seen 
Katherine  Hendrick  bow  over,  broken-hearted. 

Well,  did  Barry  keep  her  promise  to  the  man  she 
had  lured  to  this  abyss  of  perfidy  ? 

Your  attention  here>  if  you  please ;  the  spectacle 
will  not  detain  yon  long. 

In  a  private  parlor  of  one  of  the  fine  yet  more  se- 
cluded hotels  of  the  city,  a  lady,  young,  gloriously 
beautiful,  and  richly  dressed,  paced  slowly  up  and 
down  the  softly  carpeted  floor,  glancing  at  her  jew- 
eled watch  from  time  to  time,  with  eyes  which  flashed 
with  a  weird  and  eerie  light.  The  dead  black  silk 
dress  she  wore,  falling  in  rich,  heavy,  unornamented 
folds  to  her  feet  and  rustling  softly  as  she  walked 
with  velvet  tread,  seemed  to  throw  the  pallor  of  her 

countenance  into  startling  relief.*  Or  was  it  the  surap- 
10 


218  BARRY'S  REVENGE. 

tuons  crimson  of  her  full  lips,  or  the  vivid  stain  of 
rose  on  either  cheek,  that  made  Barbara  Pomeroy 
look  so  wildly  beautiful,  even  though  so  fearfully 
wan  ?  Sometimes  as  she  passed  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  herself  in  one  of  the  long  mirrors ;  then  she  would 
pause,  with  a  dread  smile  curling  round  her  roseate 
mouth,  and  plunge  her  glittering  eyes  into  the  great 
fathomless  orbs  which  returned  her  gaze  from  the 
depths  of  the  mirror  solemnly;  or  she  would  view  her 
magnificent  person  slowly,  from  regal  head,  crowned 
with  its  coronet  of  ebony  braids,  to  her  arched  bottine 
of  black  satin,  her  breath  coming  in  long,  slow  gasps 
the  while ;  or  she  would  dash  up  the  flowing,  lace- 
lined  sleeves  of  her  dress,  and  pass  her  hands  over 
her  delicate,  blue-veined  arms,  and  then  she  would 
smile  a  strange  smile,  and  shiver  as  if  an  icy  wind  had 
struck  her  to  the  heart ! 

Once  she  lifted  her  dangling  chain  and  looked  at  a 
tiny  golden  bauble  which  hung  from  it,  and  as  the 
bright  gaslight  set  its  facets  a-glittering,  she  dropped 
it  with  a  single  deep  sob,  and  clasped  her  trembling 
hands  across  her  eyes,  as  if  its  sheen  had  dazzled 
her. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother,  mother !  "  groaned  Barry 
Pomeroy.  "  If  you  had  strangled  me  at  my  birth,  it 
would  have  been  better  for  me  !  " 

A  tap  at  the  door.  • 


BARRY'S  REVENGE.  219 

"  He  is  here,"  said  Barry  Pomeroy,  and  turned  to 
greet  her  lover  with  a  glorious  love-smile. 

He  took  her  death-cold  hand — his  own  was  burn- 
ing like  his  passion-crazed  brain,  and  he  presented 
to  her  his  confidential  friend,  the  Rev.  Horace  Dal- 
las, a  college  chum  of  his,  with  an  eager  pride  in  her 
and  triumph  in  his  approaching  possession  of  her, 
that  seemed  nothing  more  than  natural,  even  to  the 
dispassionate  young  clergyman  the  instant  he  had 
set  his  eyes  upon  her,  though  only  a  minute  since  he 
had  been  remonstrating  with  Fairleigh  on  his  madness. 

"  You  are  not  regretting  ?  "  whispered  Harrison, 
feverishly,  as  her  wonderful  eyes  rested  upon  his  in  a 
deep,  unsmiling  gaze. 

"  No,"  breathed  she ;  "  this  night  is  the  culmina- 
tion of  my  life.  For  sake  of  this  night  I  could  con- 
sent never  to  live  another." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  aspirated  he,  hanging  over  her 
with  looks  of  delicious  adoration.  "  I  have  bought 
you  too  dearly  to  lose  you,  Barbara,  and  yet  the  sa- 
crifice was  nothing — nothing,  compared  with  the  bliss 
of  this  moment." 

"  You  have  bought  me  dearly  indeed,"  echoed  she, 
a  singular  thrill  in  her  cooing  tones,  "  and  I  have 
won  you  as  dearly.  What  I  am  you  have  made  me  ; 
always  remember  that,  Harrison.  You  know  best 
what  I  once  was." 


220  BARRY'S  REVENGE. 

And  this  chill  truth,  falling  flat  on  his  hot  love, 
sent  a  ghastly  shudder  through  all  his  frame,  and 
blanched  his  glowing  face. 

Then  it  was  that  Mr.  Dallas  bade  them  stand  be- 
fore him,  and  in  a  few  words  bound  them  together 
for  better,  for  worse,  till  death  should  part  them. 
As  he  called  upon  Heaven  to  bless  their  union,  the 
husband  and  wife  turned  and  looked  into  each  other's 
very  souls. 

What  read  Harrison  Fairleigh  in  those  mystic 
depths  that  froze  the  fiery  kiss  upon  his  bending  lips, 
and  wrung  from  his  exulting  heart  a  gasp  of  name- 
less terror !  Whatever  it  was,  it  passed  in  a  moment, 
and  the  languorous  light  of  love  beamed  instead 
from  her  eyes. 

They  were  alone  at  last. 

"  Never  more  to  part !  "  breathed  he,  drunk  with 
his  own  ecstasy. 

"  Fold  me  close,  dear,"  whispered  she,  yielding  her 
velvet  lips  in  a  divine  sigh  to  his,  for  the  first  time  ; 
"  and  oh,  love  me,  love  me,  love  me  !  for  I  have  lost 
my  soul  for  this  one  hour  !  " 

******* 

"  Barbara ! " 

"  My  beloved !  " 

"'  You  are  strangely  weary  !  " 

"  Do  I  seem  so,  Harrison  ?  I  am  not  weary  of  you ! " 


BARRY'S  REVENGE.  221 

"  Your  dear  cheek  is  pale  as  a  drenched  water- 
lily  ! " 

"  Happiness,  love  !  Oh,  think  of  nothing  yet  but 
how  much  we  love  each  other !  " 

He  folded  her  again  to  his  o'er-f raught  heart ;  his 
whole  soul  was  permeated  with  that  rapture  of 
felicity  which  is  only  to  be  drunk  from  the  brimming 
cup  of  true  love  ;  his  heart  was  softened ;  his  nature 
was  ennobled.  It  was  the  turning  point  in  Harrison 
Fairleigh's  life  ;  from  that  hour  he  might  have  fared 
on  life's  dusty  way — a  repentant  man — a  good  man. 

They  were  driving  in  his  carriage  to  the  beautiful 
home  he  had  prepared  for  Katherine  Hendrick  ;  for 
thither,  in  Barry's  wild  lust  for  vengeance,  she  had 
induced  him  to  bear  his  low-borif  bride,  that  his  in- 
fatuation might  blazon  itself  forth  the  more  shame- 
lessly, and  Katherine  be  yet  more  brutally  humiliated. 
The  whistling  wind  of  that  winter  night  blew  sharp- 
edged  through  the  sumptuous  velvets  of  the  richly 
appointed  carriage,  and  seemed  to  chill  the  syren  as 
she  lay  on  his  breast,  even  through  all  the  costly  furs 
which  her  lover  kept  carefully  round  her ;  even 
through  all  the  burning  kisses  which  he  took  from 
her  paling  lips,  and  pressed  upon  her  passionate  eyes, 
and  chilling  satin  cheek. 

Was  this  love-elixir  too  strong  for  the  woman,  now 
that  she  had  given  herself  up  to  the  drinking  of  it, 


222  BARRY'S  REVENGE. 

in  the  perfect  abandon  of  one  who,  as  she  had  said, 
had  lost  her  very  soul  for  that  one  hour? 

Or  was  it  that  the  mighty  love  this  poor  creature 
was  cursed  with  for  this,  her  miserably  imheroic 
lover,  turned  upon  her  in  its  fulfilment,  and  blasted 
her  with  its  baleful  intensity,  annihilating  her  in  its 
short-lived  consummation  ? 

"  Barry,  surely  you  are  ill  ? " 

"  No,  love,  no  !  I  shall  never  be  better  in  my  life 
• — nor  happier  !  " 

"  So  white,  dear  !  Tour  very  lips — sweet  lips  that 
thrill  my  every  vein  with  rapture  ! — love,  there  is  a 
strange  lustre  in  these  dear  eyes,  as  if  the  spirit  stood 
very  close  behind  them,  looking  out.  Barry — Barry 
— speak  to  me,  my  darling,  I  am  afraid !  " 

"  Not  of  me,  Harrison  ? " 

"  Heavens !  She  is  too  faint  to  speak  aloud  !  Oh, 
my  angel,  love,  what  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  It  is  nothing  ;  be  at  peace  again.  This  happiness 
is  sweet,  sweet,  too  deliriously  sweet  to  last  forever 
— let  us  enjoy  every  heart-beat  of  it  while  we  may." 

"  What  should  end  it,  my  wife?  " 

"  His  wife !  O  God !  am  I  his  wife  at  last !  and 
— this — hour — is — all." 

She  burst  into  a  suppressed  shriek,  and  folding 
her  arms  round  his  neck,  almost  suffocated  him  with 
the  convulsive  strength  of  her  embrace.  In  startled 


BARRY'S  REVENGE.  223 

terror  he  held  her  to  his  breast  as  she  sank  down 
anon,  her  clasp  relaxing,  her  lips  whitening  awfully  : 
and  pouring  forth  the  most  eloquent  endearments, 
besought  her  to  tell  him  what  she  felt,  or  what  she 
meant,  or  at  least  to  give  him  some  assurance  that 
she  loved  him  truly,  and  would  never  remember 
against  him  the  outrageous  insult  he  had  in  times 
past  offered  her.  Presently  her  glazing  eyes  opened, 
she  looked  up  at  him  with  an  anguished  smile. 

"  I  am  faint,  my  husband,"  breathed  she,  in  ac- 
cents almost  inaudible.  "  I  would  fain  be  at  rest  in 
our  new  home.  Tell  them  to  drive  faster — faster, 
for,  oh,  the  time  is  passing,  and  1  have  much  to 
say ! " 

So,  with  the  chill  of  death  at  his  boding  beart, 
he  ordered  them  to  speed,  and  gathering  her  sinking 
form  close — close  to  his  breast,  receiving  her  flutter- 
ing breath  on  a  cheek  that  was  now  as  white  as  her 
own.  For  oh !  he  could  no  longer  shut  out  the  grisly 
presentiment  of  retribution  swift  and  sure,  overwhelm- 
ing him  in  the  very  flush  of  triumph,  crushing  him 
in  this,  the  best,  the  most  joyous  moment  of  his  life! 
lie  saw  in  terror  and  dismay  unimaginable  the  phan- 
tom of  despair  drawing  nearer  with  every  muffled 
heart-beat,  stretching  out  its  ruthless  hand  to  part 
him  from  her  for  whose  sake  he  had  steeped  hia 
name  in  infamy,  his  soul  in  guilt. 


224  BARRY'S  REVENGE. 

They  reached  the  mansion.  His  confidential  ser 
vant  was  ready  for  them ;  they  were  received  with 
stately  honor  —  servants  meeting  them  with  deep 
obeisances  and  well-conned  speeches  of  welcome, lights 
blazing,  rooms  warm  and  odorous  as  a  Summer  morn- 
ing— all  prepared  for  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  just 
as  it  would  have  been  had  that  wan,  dim-eyed  shape 
that  hung  on  his  arms  been  the  queenly  daughter  of 
Baron  Hendrick. 

He  bore  her  to  the  bridal-chamber,  and  laid  her  on 
the  sacred  couch.  She  kept  her  sweet  eyes  fixed  on 
his  as  if  they  would  grow  to  them.  From  time  to 
time  a  death-like  faintness  seemed  to  dim  her  vision 
and  drench  her  lovely  face  with  the  fatal  dews  which 
come  but  once  ;  but  even  then  her  glance  never  fal- 
tered, nor  did  the  fixed  smile  fade  from  her  pale  lips. 

He  untied  the  magnificent  Russian  sable  which 
wrapped  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  snatching  the 
restoratives  from  the  hand  of  the  maid  he  had  sum- 
moned to  his  aid,  strove  to  bring  back  her  vanished 
strength,  while  he  prayed  her,  in  heart-rending  accents, 
to  tell  him  what  he  could  do  for  her. 

"  Are  we  alone  ? "  gasped  she. 

A  motion  of  his  sent  the  wondering  throng  of  at- 
tendants from  the  room,  with  the  door  respectfully 
closed. 

"  Yes,  my  own  sweet  wife,  you  and  I  are  heart  to 


BARRY'S  REVENGE.  225 

heart,  only  God  our  witness.     What  have  you  to  say 
to  me,  Barry  ?  " 

She  raised  herself  from  his  clinging  arms,  and 
passing  one  shaking  hand  over  her  fast  benumbing 
face,  uttered  a  low,  shuddering  moan. 

"  Harrison,"  said  she,  fixing  her  gaze  once  more 
upon  him  with  terrible  intensity,  "you  would  far 
rather  die  than  lose  me  now,  would  you  not  ?  " 

"  God  knows  I  would  !  "  cried  he. 

"  You  have  ruined  yourself  to  obtain  possession  of 
me,"  she  continued.  "Henceforth  all  honorable 
men  will  hold  you  in  bitter  loathing,  all  proud  women 
will  laugh  at  you  for  a  deluded  fool.  If  you  had 
simply  ruined  me,  you  would  have  been  held  blame- 
less ;  but  that  you  should  have  ruined  yourself  to  win 
a  wife  like  me  honorably — ah,  that  is  unpardonable. 
Let  me  speak,  I  pray  you  ;  I  have  so  little  time.  Oh, 
Harrison  !  why  did  you  not  do  me  this  justice  at  first  ? 
Why  did  you  require  me  to  goad  you  on,  through  all 
the  shameful  dissimulations  and  cowardices  which 
have  blackened  your  footsteps  up  to  this  hour  ?  Had 
you  no  eyes  to  read  the  fatal  truth— that  I  was  luring, 
luring  you  on  step  by  step,  staining  your  honor  for 
you,  blazoning  your  folly  for  you,  rendering  repen- 
tance only  ridiculous,  and  remorse  vain,  that  I  might 
take  fitting  vengeance  upon  the  man  who  twice  at- 
tempted to  sacrifice  a  trusting  woman  to  his  lust !  " 
10* 


226  BAEItY'S  REVENGE. 

It  was  said :  the  hideous  truth  was  out  at  last ;  and  as 
the  monstrous  words  dropped  slowly  from  her  fading 
lips,  the  blistering  tide  of  shame  spread  over  her 
death-stricken  face,  and  at  the  end  she  hid  it  on  his 
stunned  heart,  and  winding  her  feeble  arms  about 
him,  wept,  poor  soul,  as  if  tears  could  blot  out  her 
guilt. 

What  thought  Harrison  Fairleigh  then  ? 

For  a  time  earth  and  heaven  reeled  before  him ; 
he  stood  mute  as  if  lightning-struck.  This  woman, 
whom  he  still  held  mechanically  in  his  arms — this 
creature  who  had  coiled  herself  round  his  heart  with 
such  insidious  power,  in  whose  mad  love  he  had 
gloried,  whose  invincible  chastity  he  had  venerated, 
libertine  though  he  was,  giving  her  only  the  deeper 
adoration  because  of  it — this  sorceress,  for  whose  sake 
he  had  lost  the  world,  counting  it  but  dross  to  the 
possession  of  her — had,  oh,  unendurable  villainy !  but 
played  with  him  to  glut  her  hellish  revenge  ! 

"  My  God ! "  groaned  he  at  last,  thrusting  her  from 
him  with  such  fierce  violence  that  she  fell  in  a  heap 
on  the  white  satin  bed,  her  long  black  tresses  floating 
about  her  like  a  pall ;  "  my  God  !  can  this  be  ?  Oh, 
girl,  could  you  not  see  that  you  held  my  very  soul  in 
your  hand — that  for  your  sake  I  could  be  angel  or 
devil,  whichever  you  chose  to  make  me  ? " 

She  answered  him  nothing;  her  eyes  were  closed, 


BARRY'S  REVENGE.  227 

a  frightful  convulsion  distorted  her  bloodless  coun- 
tenance, her  clasped  hands  worked  spasmodically. 

Harrison  saw  a  crimson  stain  dyeing  the  glistening 
purity  of  the  satin  coverlet.  He  bent  over  it ;  he  saw 
that  it  was  blood.  A  piercing  cry  broke  from  him 
once  again  he  snatched  her  to  his  breast,  and  covered 
her  cold  mouth  with  wild  kisses. 

She  opened  her  sightless  eyes  for  the  last  time,  and 
gave  him  her  last  love-look,  her  last  adoring  love- 
smile. 

"  And  yet,"  she  faltered,  in  quivering  tones,  "  I 
loved  you  all  the  while,  my  darling — my  darling. 
So  dearly,  that  rather  than  live  to  reap  the  whirlwind 
which  we  two  have  sown,  I've  called  in  death  to  save 
us.  Kiss  me  once  more,  my  lover,  before  my  lips 
grow  numb,  and  my  heart  ceases  to  thrill  at  your 
touch.  Hold  me  up  to  your  breast,  dear;  tell  me 
how  you  love  me,  poor  Barry,  whom  you  have  made 
what  she  is  !  " 

"  Is  there  no  hope,  oh !  my  poor  love  ? "  wept 
Harrison,  in  frenzied  imploration.  "  Let  me  save  you, 
sweet.  Oh,  you  cruel  girl !  can  you  leave  me  novp  ? " 

"  I  must ! "  she  shivered  out,  while  the  great  tears 
of  bitter  anguish  rolled  down  her  ghastly  face.  "  I 
did  not  think  it  would  have  been  so  hard  to  go.  1 
thought  you  would  have  cursed  me  and  taken  your 
love  from  me,  and  I  dared  not  live  without  it!" 


228  BARRY'S  REVENGE. 

"My  God!  can  I  not  save  her  yet?"  shrieked 
Harrison ;  and  he  would  have  rushed  to  summon  as- 
sistance, but  she  held  him  with  her  feeble  clasp,  and 
moaned  with  agonized  tenderness: 

"  Don't  leave  me,  husband !  Give  me  these  few 
last  moments.  Death  is  so  near  that  I  scarce  can  see 
you  now,  and  I  would  die  with  your  eyes  pouring 
love  and  forgiveness  into  mine.  No,  beloved,  noth- 
ing can  be  done  any  more  for  lost  Barry — Fairleigh," 
she  uttered  the  name  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile  of  pleas- 
ure. "  As  soon  as  we  were  married,  while  I  was  put- 
ting on  my  wraps,  I  opened  a  vein  in  my  arm  with 
my  gold  penknife,  and  I  have  been  bleeding  to-death 
ever  since." 

So,  then,  these  unfortunates  clasped  each  other  in  a 
last  embrace,  and  so  ebbed  her  life  away. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LITTLE   BARB   BEARS   THE   BRUNT. 

SENSATION  of  nipping  cold,  a  struggle 
for  breath,  as  if  a  mountain  lay  on  lier 
breast,  a  blurred  light  growing  brighter  and 
brighter,  and  little  Barb  Pomeroy  came  back  to  con- 
sciousness at  last,  and  sprang  up  with  a  bewildered 
cry.  She  recognized  the  room — Miss  Ilendrick's  pri- 
vate parlor — and  the  white,  shocked  face  which  bent 
over  her,  as  Mrs.  Archer's,  the  housekeeper ;  and,  too, 
the  smothered  ejaculations,  sobs,  and  confusion  which 
came  from  the  inner  chamber  as  the  results  of  the 
fearful  scene  she  had  taken  such  dread  part  in  a  few 
minutes  ago. 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Barb,  piteously,  « is  she  dead  ?  " 
Mrs.  Archer  recoiled  from  her  with  a  look  of 
loathing,  and,  beckoning  to  some  one  to  approach, 
gave  place,  drawing  her  skirts  around  her,  as  one 
might  from  some  foul  contagion. 

The  next  instant  Barb's  arm  was  grasped  in  a 
strong  grip,  and,  turning  in  affright,  she  saw  a  con- 
stable at  her  side. 


230         LITTLE  BARB  BEARS  THE  BRUNT. 

At  that  moment  Roscoe  entered  from  the  inner 
room,  and  seeing  the  poor  girl  in  the  hands  of  .the 
officer,  said,  with  a  visible  shudder  : 

"  Take  her  away  !  Quick !  Don't  have  her  here 
to  blast  the  eyes  of  the  mother !  "  and  with  a  gesture 
of  vehement  impatience  he  waved  her  away  as  if  she 
was  some  noxious  animal. 

Little  Barb  knew  now  what  all  this  meant.  They 
suspected  her  of  the  murder  of  Katherine  liendrick. 

She  stood  stupidly  staring  at  Mr.  lioscoe,  eyes  and 
mouth  open,  her  features  rigid,  the  very  personifica- 
tion of  apathetic  guilt. 

"  Hush ! "  said  Roscoe,  with  a  look  of  apprehension, 
"  do  I  not  hear  her  coming  ?  " 

They  all  listened,  little  Barb  taking  no  meaning 
out  of  the  sounds  of  hurried  footsteps  and  breathless 
ejaculations,  and  suppressed  cries  which  came  from 
the  hall ;  and  anon  the  door  was  violently  flung  open, 
and  the  baroness,  supported  by  her  female  attendant, 
and  closely  followed  by  the  baron,  burst  into  their 
daughter's  boudoir. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "Where  is  Katherine  ?  " 
cried  the  unfortunate  mother,  in  vehement  excite- 
ment. "  I  can  understand  nothing.  What  is  it, 
Lionel?  The  baron  won't  make  himself  intelli- 
gible." 

"For  God's  sake  prepare  her,  I  can't!  "  said  her 


LITTLE  BARB  BEARS  THE  BRUNT.         231 

husband,  hoarsely.  "And  what's  she  doing  here  yet? 

Has  no  one  the  humanity  to  arrest  my  daughter's " 

lie  paused  here,  Lionel's  hand  was  on  his  mouth,  and 
little  Barb  had  uttered  a  bitter  cry,  and  thrown  her- 
self at  the  baroness's  feet. 

"  His  daughter's  lohat  ?  "  demanded  the  lady,  with 
sudden  calmness. 

No  one  anwered. 

"  Stay,  I  shall  see  for  myself !  "  cried  she,  sweeping 
across  the  room  with  the  evident  inten  tion  of-  enter- 
ing Katharine's  bed-room  forthwith. 

Even  the  accused  girl  sprang  up  and  attempted  to 
bar  her  way,  forgetting  her  own  danger  for  the  mo- 
ment in  the  horror  of  the  expected  revelation  which 
would  meet  the  unconscious  mother's  eye. 

Every  soul  in  the  room  participated  in  her  excite- 
ment, her  captor  not  excepted,  though  he  could  not  re- 
frain from  an  internal  throe  of  amazement  at  the 
"  cheek  "  of  the  young  murderess  in  getting  up  such 
a  show  of  sympathetic  sensibility,  with  her  ghastly 
work  lying  a  few  feet  away. 

"  Who  is  this  ? "  demanded  the  baroness,  stopping 
short. 

A  motion  of  Roscoe's  sent  the  constable  to  the 
little  creature's  side  with  a  touch  on  her  arm. 

A  wild  shriek  rang  out.  It  was  the  mother's  cry 
of  comprehension. 


232          LITTLE  BARB  BEARS  THE  BRUNT. 

"  Something  has  been  done  to  Katherine — thia 
girl — O  Heaven  !  where  is  ray  poor  darling?" 

"  Madam, "  said  Barb  Pomeroy,  and  there  was  that 
in  her  voice,  low  and  tremulous  though  it  was,  that 
forced  the  lady  to  listen,  and  stayed  the  irritated  offi- 
cer's professional  urgency,  "  your  daughter  will  never 
know  earthly  sorrow  any  more — God  pity  and  for- 
give her ! — but  not  by  my  hand,  lady — not  by  my 
hand  has  she  been  thrust  out  of  the  world." 

The  poor  woman  gazed  vacantly  at  her  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two;  then,  dead-calm, pushed  her  aside,  and 
entered  her  daughter's  chamber. 

Oh,  that  fearful  cry  ! 

"While  it  yet  rang  in  her  ears  with  a  terror  never  to 
be  forgotten,  Barb  was  hurried  from  the  house. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards,  and  the  walls  of  a 
criminal's  prison  had  closed  upon  her. 

******* 

"What  a  windfall  Katherine  Hendrick's  death  was 
to  the  newspapers  of  the  day  !  It  was  given  to  the 
public  with  all  the  graphic  power  of  which  their 
local  editors'  practised  pens  were  capable. 

Strangled  by  the  tiny  hand  of  a  jealous  rival, 
twisted  in  a  string  of  pearls — the  bridegroom's  wed- 
ding gift !  A  rival  picked  up  by  her  noble  cousin  off 
the  boards  of  a  theatre — out  of  the  very  ballet  corps ! 

How  the  eager  writers  revelled  in  the  piteous  de- 


LITTLE  BARB  BEARS  THE  BRUNT.          233 

tails;  portrayed  the  secret  interview  between  the 
murderess  and  her  victim  ;  pictured  every  hideous 
item  of  the  death-bed  scene ;  the  appearance  of  the 
dead  bride-elect— exquisitely  beautiful  even  in  death 
— with  the  princely  gift  of  her  perfidious  lover  twined 
around  her  slender  throat  with  the  horrid  tightness 
of  a  thug's  cord,  and  held  by  the  child-like  hand  of 
her  ruthless  rival ;  the  bitter  vengeance  of  the  illus- 
trious father,  growing  in  fatal  intensity  every  day, 
the  heart-rending  grief  of  the  once  gay  and  popular 
lady  mother,  who  could  not  be  induced  to  leave  the 
side  of  her  dead,  but  sat  all  day  long  gazing  on  her 
face  without  motion,  without  apparent  fatigue, 
without  the  will  or  the  power  to  tear  her  eyes  away, 
though  the  blight  of  speedy  dissolution  seemed  to  be 
falling  upon  her  own  wasting  form.  With  all  these 
fearful  details  were  the  greedy  public  amused,  the 
friends  sickened,  and  the  whole  city  lashed  into  a 
fury  of  impatience  for  the  elucidation  of  the  myste- 
rious circumstances  which  had  led  to  the  murder,  and 
the  execution  of  the  murderess. 

In  the  meanwhile,  a  curious  complication  had 
arisen,  in  the  fact,  which  was  at  first  half  incredu- 
lously whispered  about,  but  soon  came  to  be  prove'd 
beyond  a  doubt,  that  the  bridegroom  and  his  mother's 
adopted  daughter,  Marah  Leith,  was  missing. 

Little  by  little  those  facts,  which  were  known  to 


234         LITTLE  BARB  BEARS  THE  BRUNT. 

this  and  the  other  leaked  out ;  the  legal  marriage  of 
the  pair  by  his  friend,  Mr.  Dallas,  who  at  once  came 
forward  to  avow  it ;  their  subsequent  appearance  at 
the  house  on  the  Hudson ;  the  fatal  indisposition  of 
the  young  lady,  etc ;  and,  as  culmination  of  the 
•whole  monstrous  tale,  the  assertion  made  by  Mr. 
Fairloigh's  servants,  that  next  morning  their  master 
and  his  unexpected  bride  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 

ISTow  what  was  to  be  thought  of  this  ? 

Wild  were  the  opinions  hazarded  ;  but  none  were 
half  so  wild  as  the  reality. 

The  errant  pair  were  carefully  sought  by  those 
most  competent  to  the  task,  and  all  their  ingenuity 
was  in  vain — they  had  left  no  trace  behind. 

"When  the  lovely  Katherine  was  carried  to  her 
gilded  mausoleum,  followed  by  a  mile's  length  of 
the  notables  of  the  city,  and  the  glittering  gates  were 
closed  upon  her  dust,  Barb's  case  stood  thus  : 

She  had  been  caught  in  the  very  act  of  murdering 
Katherine  Ilendrick. 

Several  weeks  previously  she  had  been  seen  by 
Lionel  Roscoe  speaking  to  Harrison  Fairleigh  in 
Madison  Square,  and  heard  to  say  : 

"  Beware  of  Barbara  Pomeroy !  " 

She  was  known  to  have  been  intimate  with  Marah 
Leith,  and  to  have  visited  her  frequently  at  Mrs  Fair- 
leigh's  house. 


LITTLE  BARB  BEARS  THE  BRUNT.          235 

Her  antecedents  were  found  to  be  of  the  lowest 
order.  She  had  been  reared  by  a  noted  pair  of 
thieves  in  a  quarter  of  the  city  given  over  to  the  irre- 
claiinably  vicious ;  had  been  easily  bought  of  them 
by  young  Mr.  Roscoe,  whose  motive,  as  it  happened, 
was  a  virtuous  one,  though  no  one  but  himself  had 
known  that ;  her  rescue  had  been  attempted  by  some 
unknown  young  man  who  was  now,  like  Mr.  Fair- 
leigh  and  Miss  Leith,  nowhere  to  be  found  ;  she  had 
ceased  her  resistance  to  the  capture  whenever  she 
knew  that  it  was  to  Miss  Ilendrick's  house  that  he 
intended  to  bring  her ;  she  had  ardently  wished  for 
the  interview;  had  worked  in  some  unknown  manner 
upon  Miss  Ilendrick's  mind,  so  that  she,  who  at  first 
could  scarcely  be  prevailed  upon  to  see  her,  presently 
begged  Mr.  Roscoe  to  leave  them  alone  together  for 
the  night ;  and  then — the  murder  ! 

And  had  she  no  friends  to  stand  up  for  her  in  this 
her  black  hour  of  terror  ? 

Yes,  she  had  one — He  was  omniscient — in  heaven ; 
and  she  had  one — she  was  true  as  gold — on  earth. 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  came  to  little  Barbara  the  morning 
after  the  tragedy ;  and,  finding  her  pouring  out  her 
tempest-tossed  heart  to  her  other  Friend,  kneeled 
down  beside  her,  put  her  tender  arm  around  her,  and 
wept  and  prayed  in  eloquent  silence  with  her,  and  so 
comforted  the  trembling  little  one  and  herself  in  one 


236         LITTLE  BARB  BEAKS  THE  BRUNT. 

bitter-sweet  ecstasy  of  human  love  and  divine  trust. 
Then,  lying  on  her  breast,  the  child  told  all  she  had 
to  tell ;  and  this,  with  many  tears  of  bitter  regret, 
that  she  had  not  confided  it  to  the  good  old  lady 
before,  was  Barry  Pomeroy's  story. 

The  lady  heard  with  grief  and  amazement  unutter- 
able— What  ?  Her  Marah  capable  of  imposture,  re- 
venge, intrigue,  and  above  all,  of  betraying  this,  her 
too  faithful  friend,  into  the  foul  hands  of  those 
worse  than  fiends,  who  would  have  ruined  her,  body 
and  soul !  The  sweet  soul  heard,  aghast.  It  was  all 
but  impossible  for  her  to  take  the  monstrous  reality 
in  ;  her  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  were  so  sharply  de- 
fined, that  but  to  swerve  a  step  from  one  was  to 
enter  the  other ;  she,  who  had  never  been  tempted  as 
poor  Barry  had  been,  with  a  nature  like  a  smoulder- 
ing volcano  to  begin  with,  could  not  now  comprehend 
how  that  hapless  creature  could  have  so  deceived 
her,  and  not  be  a  hypocrite  in  the  deliberate  exercise 
of  her  hyprocrisy,  and  capable  of  anything,  even  to 
the  leaving  of  her  simple  friend  Barb,  to  perish  for 
the  crime  of  which  she  herself  had  long  been  guilty  in 
heart. 

In  vain  the  untaught  girl  of  the  people  strove  to 
rend  the  vail  of  the  highly  nurtured  lady's  prejudice, 
and  show  her  the  intricate  workings  of  Barbara's 
misguided  heart,  which  once,  pure  as  Henrietta  Fair- 


LITTLE  BARB  BEARS  THE  BRUNT.          237 

leiglrs  own,  had  passed  through  all  the  tragic  phases 
between,  till  it  was  what  it  was  to-day. 

But,  as  these  two  talked  of  wicked  Barry  Pomeroy 
and  her  impostures,  it  never  once  entered  into  their 
minds  that  she  might  have  already  passed  to  the 
greatest  tribunal  of  all — that  Barry  might  be  dead  ! 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  went  from  the  prison  to  the  office 
of  an  eminent  counsel,  and  placed  her  darling's  case 
in  his  hands,  with  the  solemn  adjuration  to  save  her, 
or  be  guilty  of  innocent  blood. 

And  then  the  days  dragged  on ;  and  the  papers 
teemed  with  fresh  items  every  day :  and  the  lady 
mothers  pined,  each  in  her  luxurious  abode,  while  the 
baron  raged  and  fumed  at  the  tardiness  of  j  ustice ; 
and  the  prisoner  languished  in  her  lonely  cell,  and 
ordered  her  heart  to  bear  its  burden  meekly ;  and  the 
search  went  on  for  the  missing  ones  ;  ah,  yes  !  time 
passed  strangely,  and  deathly  sad  till  the  end  came. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOW   APPEARANCES    WERE   READ. 

trial  drew  on  apace ;  evidence  was  col- 
lected for  and  against  the  prisoner  quietly 
and  steadily :  witnesses  were  summoned  to 
appear  at  the  coming  examination  by  the  lawyers  en- 
gaged on  either  side  ;  and  oh  !  how  the  hearts  of  the 
two  lady  mothers  swelled  and  sickened  in  anticipa- 
tion, the  baroness's,  of  her  daughter's  death  being 
fitly  expiated ;  Mrs.  Fairleigh's,  of  the  possible 
sacrifice  of  the  innocent  girl  whom  she  loved  ! 

The  latter  lady,  perhaps,  had  the  heaviest  burden 
of  the  two  to  bear. 

Her  son  it  was  through  whom  all  this  misery,  crime, 
and  injustice  had  come  to  pass;  she  herself,  too,  was 
deeply  to  blame,  inasmuch  as  she  had  allowed  herself 
to  be  duped  by  a  designing  woman,  who  had  simply 
made  use  of  her  as  a  means  to  her  own  ends. 

Of  course  the  Baron  and  Baroness  Ilendrick  were 
incapable  of  the  magnanimity  of  keeping  up  the 
friendship  between  themselves  and  Mrs.  Fairleigh, 


HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ.  239 

and  of  sharing  each  other's  burdens  ;  in  their  wrath 
at  the  foul  play  of  her  son,  and  in  their  horror  at  the 
girl  whom  Mrs.  Fairleigh  so  outraged  them  by  be- 
friending, all  sympathy  with  her  share  of  the  afflic- 
tion was  forgotten,  and  they  raged  and  raved  against 
her  as  if  she  was  as  black  as  the  murderess  herself. 

The  morning  broke  brilliant  with  spring  sunshine 
— that  morning  which  was  to  place  poor  Barb  Pom- 
eroy  at  the  bar  of  the  court  to  plead  for  her  life. 

The  child  sat  in  her  chilly  cell,  her  trembling 
hands  clasped  close,  close  in  those  of  her  one  earthly 
friend,  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  and  her  meek  head  pillowred 
upon  her  breast.  The  sweet  old  lady  had  been  with 
her  as  constantly  as  the  rules  of  the  prison  would  per- 
mit ever  since  she  had  been  committed  for  trial;  and 
to-day  she  had  come  at  dawn,  and  devoted  herself  to 
the  sacred  task  of  encouraging  and  inspiring  the  un- 
fortunate little  one  whose  very  blood  seemed  to  chill 
in  her  veins  at  the  near  approach  of  her  dreaded  ap- 
pearance before  a  public  tribunal. 

There  was  a  weary  change  on  both  the  women ; 
these  past  months  of  sorrow  and  suspense  had  sharp- 
ened both  the  aged  and  youthful  counte'iances,  and 
blenched  them  to  the  same  dull  parlor ;  while  the 
dim  eyes  of  Mrs.  Fairleigh  and  the  dewy  ones  of  Barb 
reflected  the  same  haunting  look  of  anxiety.  But 
look  beneath  these  evidences  of  natural  feminine  agi- 


24-0          HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ. 

tation,  and  yon  might  search  far  before  you  would 
find  a  more  heroic  under-deep  of  trust  in  the  front  of 
all  the  peril  than  in  these  pale  faces. 

The  lady's  tender  kindness  had  provided  many 
ameliorations  of  the  rigor  of  Barb's  imprisonment ;  a 
square  of  soft,  bright  carpet  almost  covered  the 
yellow  boards  of  her  floor ;  several  pictures  adorned 
the  whitewashed  walls ;  the  bed  was  draped  with 
pure  white,  and  flowers  bloomed  here  and  there, 
shedding  their  rich  perfume — a  harrowing  remin- 
iscence of  meadows  and  sunshine — for  the  poor  cap- 
tive. 

"  It  will  indeed  be  a  trying  ordeal,"  said  Mrs.  Fair- 
leigh,  with  a  weary  sigh,  "  but  our  sweet  little  lamb 
is  not  going  to  be  sacrificed  unless  our  Shepherd 
wants  her  for  His  glorious  fold  in  Heaven,  and — no, 
no ! — He  could  never  desire  His  dear  one  to  pass  to 
Him  through  such  a  terrible  gate!" 

Here  she  buried  her  face  in  the  girl's  soft,  yellow 
hair,  to  conceal  the  throe  of  agony  which  this  idea 
called  upon  it. 

"Has  nothing  been  heard  of  poor  Barry's  mother 
yet — nothing  ? "  asked  Barb,  presently ;  for  apart 
from  the  importance  to  her  of  such  a  witness  coming 
forward  to  testify  to  the  truth  of  half  her  defence, 
Barb  endured  the  keenest  anxiety  concerning  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  unhappy  mother  whose  daughter 


HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ.          24-1 

had  repudiated  her  and  turned  unmoved  from  her 
gray  hairs. 

"  Nothing,"  sighed  Mrs.  Fairleigh ;  "  nor  of  your 
friend,  Dr.  Wayne,  neither.  Alas  !  never  was  inno- 
cence more  helpless !  Yet  fear  not,  my  little  Barb, 
fear  not.  Ah,  the  hour  has  come !  Courage — 
courage ! " 

A  heavy  knock  sounded  at  the  door ;  the  governor 
of  the  prison  and  his  attendants  had  come  to  conduct 
the  prisoner  to  the  bar. 

With  him  entered  a  venerable  clergyman,  a  friend 
of  Mrs,  Fairleigh's,  who  had  visited  Barb  faithfully 
ever  since  her  arrest.  While  Mrs.  Fairleigh  carefully 
arranged  some  trifling  disorder  in  the  young  girl's 
dress  (for  she  had  striven  with  trembling  care  to  en- 
hance all  the  natural  sweetness  of  Barb's  appearance, 
knowing  well  how  little  often  influences  a  jury),  Mr. 
Ogilvy  uttered  a  few  words  of  such  manly  cheerful- 
ness and  hope  that  the  quailing  child  nerved  herself 
to  what  was  before  her  with  a  sudden  rush  of  confi- 
dence in  the  righteousness  of  her  cause,  and  presently 
followed  the  officials  out  to  the  coach,  almost  with 
tranquillity. 

Her  two  friends  kept  by  her  side,  and  when  at 
length  she  was  brought  into  court  and  placed  in  the 
dock,  they  sat  close  beside  it,  ready  to  receive  her  first 

glance,  and  to  smile  encouragement  upon  her. 
11 


242          HOW  APPEARANCES  WERE  READ. 

Every  nook  was  crowded  to  suffocation,  the  case  had 
been  canvassed  by  the  public  too  long  and  excitedly 
not  to  draw  forth  a  throng  unusual  even  in  the  annals 
of  murder  trials. 

As  the  prisoner  entered — a  small,  blonde,  meek, 
saintly-faced  creature,  scarce  more  than  a  child — a 
murmur  and  stir  ran  through  the  crowd,  and  eye 
sought  eye  in  amazed  questioning. 

Was  this  a  murderess — this  modest,  drooping,  black- 
draped  girl,  with  virgin  purity  upon  her  downcast 
countenance,  and  tender  beauty  in  every  shy  move- 
ment ? 

Where  were  the  malformed  head,  the  lowering  eye, 
the  fugitive  side-glance,  the  cringing  attitude,  the 
usual  and  proper  semblance  of  the  blood-shedder  ? 

No  wonder  the  people  whispered  and  jostled  to 
gain  a  clearer  view  of  the  being  who  so  flatly  con- 
tradicted all  the  rules  of  criminal  impersonation. 

The  Baron  and  Baroness  Hendrick,  Lionel  Roscoe, 
and  many  of  their  friends  sat  in  a  conspicuous  part 
of  the  court,  where  they  could  command  a  full  view 
of  the  prisoner ;  and  as  her  shrinking  eyes  turned 
round  the  sea  of  upraised  faces  and  rested  in  recog- 
nition upon  theirs,  she  grew  pale  as  death,  for  such 
bitter  animosity  And  scorn  and  loathing  sure  never 
was  poured  on  helpless  mortal  before  !  Seeing  her 
thus  overcome,  and  obliged  to  lean  her  swaying  form 


HOW  APPEARANCES    WERE  READ.  243 

upon  the  rail  in  front  of  the  dock,  the  baron  and 
baroness  nodded  to  each  other  in  bitter  significance, 
and  cast  looks  of  eager  import  toward  the  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  hoping  that  they,  too,  had  observed  and 
interpreted,  as  they  themselves  had,  the  prisoner'? 
agitation. 

But  Roscoe  bent  forward  in  his  seat,  gnawing  his 
lip  and  knitting  his  brows,  and  for  many  minutes  did 
not  lift  his  gaze  from  Barb's  countenance. 

The  indictment  was  read  amidst  profound  silence, 
and  the  question  asked  the  accused  : 

"Prisoner  at  the  bar,  do  you  plead  guilty  or  not 
guilty  to  the  charge  \ " 

Barb  knew  this  was  coming,  and  had  nerved  her- 
self to  answer  it  calmly.  A  strange  thrill  ran  through 
all  who  heard  her  low,  modest  voice  exclaiming  : 

"  Not  guilty,  so  help  me  God !  " 

In  such  accents  might  the  purest  infant  of  any 
parent  there  have  spoken.  Hush !  how  sweet  and 
frail  she  is  !  God  keep  us,  gentlemen,  from  the  seduc- 
tive snares  of  a  siren  ! 

So  mused  the  people ;  and  Lionel  Roscoe  drew  a 
deep  breath,  as  if  his  rising  heart  threatened  to  choke 
him  with  its  hard,  hot  beating. 

The  case  was  now  duly  opened  by  the  counsel  for 
the  prosecution. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  give  in  our  own  words  a  re- 


244          HOW  APPEARANCES   WEEE  READ. 

hash  of  the  learned  gentleman's  speech,  which  held 
the  court  in  breathless  attention  for  almost  an  hour ; 
it  was  in  effect  a  recapitulation  of  Barb's  history, 
with  which  we  are  already  acquainted,  but  so  dis- 
torted and  misapprehended  throughout,  that  it  might 
quite  as  appropriately  have  been  the  history  of  the 
blackest  wretch  ever  exposed,  as  that  of  our  simple 
girl  of  the  people. 

Here  is  his  account,  abbreviated : 

Eighteen  months  ago,  two  young  girls  came  to  the 
Home  for  the  Friendless— a  charitable  institution  in 
Street ;  their  names  were  Marah  Leith  and  Bar- 
bara Pomeroy ;  they  were  out  of  employment,  and 
ready  for  anything  the  matron  had  to  offer.  She  had 
nothing  at  the  time  to  offer,  but  at  the  end  of  a  week 
or  so,  a  lady,  Mrs.  Farrleigh,  (tailed  in  search  of  a 
young  .girl  suitable  for  adoption.  She  chose  Marah 
Leith,  and  took  her  home ;  and  Barbara,  partly 
through  her  assistance,  obtained  respectable  employ- 
ment as  a  dressmaker.  All  went  on  with  apparent 
harmony  in  Mrs.  Fairleigh's  home,  and  the  dress- 
maker's humble  abode  for  upward  of  a  year  ;  then 
Mr.  Harrison  Fairleigh  returned  from  abroad,  saw 
Marah  Leith,  and  was  obviously  attracted  from  the 
first  by  her  unusual  beauty  and  mental  superiority. 
Witnesses  would  be  summoned  to  testify  to  the  many 
attentions  he  offered  her,  keeping  concealed,  both 


HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ.          245 

from  Miss  Leith  and  his  mother,  the  fact  of  his  en- 
gagement to  Miss  Hendrick,  to  whom  he  was  to  be 
married  in  a  month.  The  accused  visited  Miss  Lcith 
more  frequently  than  usual  during  this  period,  but 
there  was  no  testimony  to  show  that  she  ever  met  Mr. 
Fairleigh.  upon  these  occasions  ;  though  there  was  to 
show  that  she  was  cognizant  of  the  friendly  intimacy 
between  Miss  Leith  and  him,  "&nd  that  she  earnestly 
disapproved  of  it.  In  the  course  of  time  Mr.  Fair- 
leigh made  his  engagement  known,  and  Mrs.  Fair- 
leigh and  Miss  Leith  called  upon  the  Baroness  Hen- 
drick and  her  daughter  ;  it  would  presently  be  shown 
that  a  spirit  of  bitter  distrust  of  Miss  Leith  sprang 
up  in  Miss  Hendrick's  heart  from  the  moment  when 
she  first  beheld  her,  and  that  Miss  Leith  insolently 
strove  to  rouse  her  jealousy  by  parading  her  intimacy 
with  Miss  Hendrick's  affianced  husband.  All  this 
might  go  to  prove  that  Miss  Leith  was  the  head  in 
this  adventure,  and  Barbara  Pomeroy  the  hand,  and 
the  sequel  would  bear  the  speaker  out  in  his  opinion, 
he  assured  the  court.  On  such  and  such  a  date,  Mr. 
Roscoe  chanced  to  observe  his  friend  Mr.  Fairleigh 
stroll  into  Madison  Square,  and  presently  he  followed 
him,  expecting  to  find  him  smoking  his  cigar  and  mus- 
ing over  his  approaching  happiness.  To  his  surprise, 
however,  he  discovered  him  in  close  conversation 
•with  a  young  woman,  who,  as  Mr.  Roscoe  approached, 


24:6          HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ. 

seemed  to  be  taking  her  leave,  and  who  said,  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  lend  a  very  sinister  significance  to  the 
words,  that  which  proved  to  be  the  first  link  of  the 
chain  of  evidence  which  fastened  the  crime  of  mur- 
der upon  her  to-day. 

The  next  we  saw  of  Barbara  Pomeroy  in  this  affair 
was  at  the  masked  ball  given  by  Baroness  Ilendrick 
in  honor  of  her  daughter's  last  appearance  in  society 
before  her  marriage.  There,  it  would  be  shown  how 
the  two  adventuresses  comported  themselves;  Miss 
Leith,  in  audacious  defiance  of  the  bride-elect's  super- 
ior claims  on  Mr.  Fairleigh,  and  the  accused,  who  had 
evidently  stolen  thither  from  curiosity  to  see  Miss 
Ilendrick  and  Mr.  Fairleigh  together,  seemingly  over- 
awed by  the  unfortunate  lady's  exquisite  beauty  and 
grace,  and  slinking  away  at  the  first  opportunity. 
From  this  time  it  would  appear  that  the  prisoner  had 
transferred  all  her  jealousy  from  her  accomplice  to 
Miss  Ilendrick — that  believing  such  beauty  and  pas- 
sion invincible — for  on  that  occasion  the  bride-elect 
showed  all  the  fervid  passions  of  a  woman  in  love, 
whose  rights  are  trampled  upon  by  the  base — she 
ceased  to  account  Miss  Leith  any  longer  a  rival  to  be 
feared  in  comparison  with  this  fascinating  lady ;  and 
henceforth,  Katherine  Hendrick  was  a  doomed  wo- 
man. Hitherto,  probably,  Miss  Leith  had  twisted  the 
ignorant  girl  to  her  own  purposes  pretty  much  as  she 


HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ.          247 

chose ;  it  was  clear  that  they  had  started  fair  with 
each  other  in  the  beginning  of  their  connection  with 
Mi*s.  Fairleigh;  that  Mr.  Fairleiglvs  advent  upon  the 
scene  was  the  signal  for  dissension  between  them, 
ending  in  absolute  estrangement ;  there  was  but  one 
way  to  account  for  this  state  of  matters — namely,  that 
the  prisoner  had  had  some  acquaintance  in  the  course  of 
what  would  presently  be  seen  was  not  an  irreproach- 
able pre-history  with  Mr.  Harrison  Fairleigh;  that 
she  had  hoped  to  recommence  it  upon  his  return  to 
Kew  York ;  that  Marah  Leith  had  stepped  between, 
ruining  her  chances ;  and  that,  finally,  Miss  Hendrick 
was  about  to  put  an  end  to  her  nefarious  designs  on 
him  forever,  by  uniting  herself  to  him  in  honorable 
wedlock.  These,  the  learned  gentleman  submitted 
to  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  as  plain  and  palpable 
motives  for  the  foul  act  of  which  the  prisoner  at  the 
bar  stood  accused. 

In  the  meanwhile  Marah  Leith  was  playing  a  game 
far  too  deep  for  Barbara  Pomeroy's  eye — no  less  a 
game  than  that  of  seducing  Mr.  Fairleigh  from  his 
fidelity  to  his  bride  into  a  marriage  with,  herself. 
Unaware  of  this  plot,  the  prisoner,  who  had  returned 
some  time  previously  to  associates  whose  reputation 
smelled  foul  as  any  den  in  Water  Street,  was  captured 
by  Mr.  Roscoe  on  the  deceased's  wedding-eve,  and 
taken  by  him  to  the  lady's  house,  with  the  hope  of 


248          HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ. 

wringing  from  her  so  much  of  Mr.  Fairleigli's  private 
character  as  would  save  his  cousin  from  a  miserable 
marriage,  even  at  this  late  date. 

Mr.  Eoscoe  had  been  anxiously  searching  for  Bar- 
bara Pomeroy  ever  since  the  day  he  saw  her  in  the 
Square,  the  capricious  conduct  of  Mr.  Fairleigh  urg- 
ing him  on  to  seek  some  explanation.  His  agents 
had  at  last  discovered  her  living  a  sort  of  incognito 
existence  with  two  old  friends  of  hers,  whose  charac- 
ters did  not  do  her  much  credit.  Of  these  wretches 
Mr.  Fairleigh  actually  bought  the  prisoner,  who,  they 
assured  him,  was  frequently  thus  bought  and  sold  by 
those  who  were  willing  to  pay  their  price  for  her,  she 
being  their  property. 

And  here  the  lawyer  paused  to  give  the  jury  time 
to  take  this  statement  in  all  its  enormity,  and  the 
people  a  chance  to  relieve  their  feelings  in  whispers 
of  horror  and  disgust.  But  the  prisoner  was  seen  to 
turn  her  swimming  eyes  upon  those  of  the  aged  lady 
whose  soft  old  hand  grasped  hers  through  the  railing, 
and  to  straighten  her  slight  figure  with  a  faint,  proud 
smile,  such  as  only  the  innocent  should  wear. 

Lionel  Roscoe,  too,  half  rose  from  his  place  with 
an  eager  gesture,  but  was  hastily  pulled  down  again 
by  the  junior  counsel  for  the  prosecution,  and  pacified 
by  some  whispered  promise. 

The  lawyer  proceeded. 


HOW  APPEARANCES   WERE  READ.          249 

Mr.  Hoscoe  having  effected  his  purchase,  took  pos- 
session of  her  when  she  was  making  her  escape  from 
the  theatre,  she  having  apparently  some  private  in- 
trigue of  her  own  choosing  on  hand  which  her  ownei-s 
were  ignorant  of  ;  and  having  snatched  her  from  the 
arms  of  an  unknown  young  man  who  had  never  been 
heard  of  since,  carried  her  to  his  hotel,  where  the 
baroness's  housekeeper  waited  to  assist  him  in  his  dis- 
agreeable task ;  and  from  thence  took  her  to  the  house 
of  Baron  Ilendrick.  The  family  had  retired,  but 
Miss  Ilendrick 'was  still  up,  and  when  summoned  to 
her  door  by  her  cousin,  appeared  in  the  agitated  frame 
of  mind  natural  to  her  interesting  circumstances. 

At  first  she  refused  to  be  disturbed  by  the  strange 
visitor,  but  upon  Mr.  Roscoe  mentioning  that  the 
matter  was  connected  with  Mr.  Fairleigh,  she  per- 
mitted the  prisoner  to  enter  her  room.  In  a  few 
minutes  she  announced  to  her  anxious  cousin  that  she 
would  have  the  young  girl  stay  that  night  with  her, 
and,  utterly  regardless  of  his  horrified  entreaties, 
closed  the  door  upon  him. 

"  Xow,  gentlemen,"  said  the  counsel  for  the  prose- 
cution, impressively,  "by  what  sorcery  did  the  pris- 
oner obtain  this  extraordinary  indulgence  ?  Clearly 
by  working  on  Miss  Ilend rick's  ever-latent  distrust 
of  Marah  Lcith  ;  most  likely  by  pretending  to  have 
something  of  great  moment  to  communicate  concern- 


250          HOW  APPEARANCES  WERE  READ. 

ing  her.  At  all  events,  she  effected  her  purpose  ;  and 
with  murder  in  her  heart,  and  the  meekness  and  sim- 
plicity of  a  child  in  her  looks  and  words— a  mere 
trick  of  form  and  expression,  gentlemen — she  lured 
her  victim  into  such  a  feeling  of  security  that  she 
actually  fell  asleep  upon  her  couch,  and  then  per- 
formed the  hellish  work  she  long  had  meditated.  At 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Roscoe,  who  had 
never  ceased  to  pace  before  the  door  of  his  cousin's 
parlor,  heard  piercing  screams  for  help.  Before  he 
could  break  down  the  door  and  make  his  way  to  Miss 
Hendrick's  chamber,  all  was  over.  The  lady  lay  on 
her  bed  with  the  breath  choked  out  of  her ;  her  hands 
were  twined  in  a  pearl  necklace  which  was  twisted 
round  her  throat,  in  a  desperate  struggle  to  loosen  it, 
and  the  hand  of  the  prisoner  was  found  twisted  in  it 
also,  but  with  murderous  purpose,  she  having  given 
way  to  the  horror  of  her  awful  deed  the  moment  she 
saw  it  was  accomplished,  and  fallen  across  Miss  Hen- 
drick's body  insensible." 

Again  the  lawyer  paused,  not  only  too  much  moved 
himself  to  proceed,  but  out  of  respect  to  the  storm  of 
agitation  which  swept  through  the  court,  and  the 
heart-rending  distress  of  the  murdered  lady's  parents, 
who  both  wept  unrestrainedly. 

Great  crystal  tears  were  gushing  over  the  transpa- 
rent cheeks  of  the  accused  also,  and  she  was  seen  to 


HOW  APPEARANCES  WERE  READ.     251 

wring  her  friend's  hand  with  the  most  finished  ex- 
pression of  grief — a  spectacle  to  which  the  lawyer 
presently  called  the  attention  of  judge  and  jury  in  a 
burst  of  indignation. 

"  In  the  defence  you  will  hear  much  of  the  prison- 
er's gentleness,  virtue,  magnanimity,  and  all  the  other 
Christian  graces.  Gentlemen,  it  is  easy  for  some 
people  to  impose  upon  the  charitable  and  the  old. 
The  childish  contour  of  a  face,  the  ever-ready  tear, 
the  simulated  timidity  and  helplessness  of  extreme 
youth — all  are  very  efficient  weapons  of  defence 
when  their  possessor's  life  depends  on  their  clever 
use.  Hypocrisy,  gentlemen,  can  assume  any  face  that 
suits  its  purpose ;  and  what  are  a  few  tears  in  the 
appropriate  place  to  a  practised  actress  ?  But  to  con- 
tinue. The  prisoner  is  here  charged  with  murder; 
witnesses  are  here  to  prove  her  guilt,  to  attest  to 
her  motive,  and  to  show  that  this  act  earne  but  in 
natural  sequence  in  a  life  of  vice.  If  for  once  I  can 
succeed  in  unveiling  a  criminal  whose  innocent 
seeming,  cunning,  simple  ways  will  be  apt  to  mislead 
the  honest-hearted,  unless  they  are  forever  on  their 
guard  against  her  wiles,  I  shall  feel  that  justice  is 
not  yet  dead  in  America,  for  all  the  sneers  that 
are  cast  at  her  so-called  partiality  to  the  brass-faced 
evil-doer." 

With  these  words  the  lawyer  sat  down. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FOE   AND    AGAINST. 

E  first  witness  called  upon  the  stand  by  the 
junior  counsel  for  the  prosecution  was  old 
ISTan. 

At  sight  of  her  bestial  and  half-drunken  visage, 
her  hair  flying  about  it  in  ragged  elf-locks,  and 
her  person  filthy,  and  untidy  in  the  extreme  (for 
Mr.  Kean,  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution,  under- 
stood too  well  the  art  of  strengthening  his  case  to 
permit  this  valuable  witness  against  the  accused  to 
appear  before  the  jury  in  any  other  than  her  native 
rags),  a  movement  of  disgust  was  observed  to  pass 
through  the  court,  while  the  prisoner  turned  a\vay 
with  a  visible  shudder,  at  which  Mr.  Kean  and  his 
junior,  Mr.  Hawksly,  exchanged  sarcastic  glances, 
and  the  people  hardened  their  hearts  against  her 
seeming  sensibility. 

Having  been  duly  sworn,  old  Nan  turned  her  evil 
eyes  around  the  court  until  they  fell  upon  poor 
shrinking  Barb,  when  she  said}  loud  enough  for 
every  one  present  to  hear  : 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  253 

"  (3h,  ye  poor  cretur,  is  this  wot  ye've  come  to 
after  all  me  trouble  with  ye!  I  always  knew  ye 
wor  a  bad  lot,  but  I  never  thought  to  see  the  day 
when  ye  would  disgrace  me  like  this  ! " 

The  examination  proceeded. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  the  junior  coun- 
sel. 

"An-toy-net  Blaze,"  answered  the  lady,  with  a 
tipsy  leer ;  "  Old  Nan  for  short,  and  well  known  an' 
respected  by  all  me  neighbors  in  Cardinal  Court  for 
a  honest  working  woman  as  has  seen  no  end " 

"  Very  good,  please  say  nothing  but  in  answer  to 
my  questions,"  said  Mr.  Hawksly,  sternly.  "  When 
did  you  first  become  acquainted  with  the  prisoner?" 

"  A  matter  of  eighteen  years  ago,  your  honor,"  re- 
plied Nan,  overawed  for  the  moment. 

"  Where  ? "  queried  the  counsel. 

"Five  Points,"  mumbled  the  witness,  with  a 
sinister  chuckle.  "  She  wor  on'y  a  babby  without 
ere  a  cretur  to  do  for  her,  an'  I  has  such  a  feel- 
in'  heart,  I  tuk  the  little  wiper  home  with  me. 
Little  did  I  think " 

"  Never  mind  what  you  thought,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Hawksly,  impatiently.  "  How  came  the  infant  to  be 
alone  ? " 

"  Her  nurse  was  bringin'  her  out  to  some  relashuns, 
but  died  on  the  way,"  muttered  Nan,  decidedly  ill- 


254:  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

pleased  with  the  subordinate  part  she  was  obliged  to 
play. 

"  Did  you  know  where  these  relations  were  to  be 
found  ? "  continued  the  lawyer. 

"  I  heard,  but  forgot  right  away,"  said  Nan,  with  a 
wink.  "  Sence  I  wasn't  agoin'  to  give  her  up,  why 
should  I  keep  their  address  inter  my  head  ? " 

"  How  did  you  know  her  name  was  Barbara 
Pomeroy  ? "  was  the  next  question. 

"  'Cos  it  was  marked  all  over  her  duds,  it  wor.  No 
end  of  expense,"  said  Nan,  "  them  duds  wos  all  the 
money's  worth  I  ever  got  of  her." 

"  What  was  your  occupation  at  that  time  ?  "  queried 
Hawksly. 

Nan  grinned,  but  made  no  audible  reply. 

"  I  dare  say  it  won't  stand  scrutiny,"  said  he, 
shrugging  his  shoulder.  "  Well,  what  did  you  want 
with  the  child  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  her  for  to  grow  up  a  blessin'  to  me  !  " 
whined  Nan;  "but  la',  I  might  hev  knowed  a  love- 
child  wouldn't  turn  out  nothin'  good." 

"  Are  you  sure  she  was  that  ?  " 

"  In  course  she  were  !  " 

Mr.  Hawksly  then  asked  her  present  occupation. 

"  Charring,"  replied  the  witness. 

"  Anything  else  ? " 

"  Am  I  to  make  a  clean  breast  right  now  2 " 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  255 

"You  arc  to  remember  that  you  are  upon  your 
oath,  and  to  speak  the  truth  accordingly." 

"All  right:  it's  so  d — d  hard  to  please  you  la\V 
fellows,  you  tell  us  to  say  so  and  so,  and  when  we  do 
you're  down  on  us  like " 

"Hold  your  tongue,  you're  drunk!"  cried  Mr. 
Ilawksly,  furiously ;  while  Mr.  Kean  hitched  about 
in  his  chair  and  coughed  in  an  agony  of  discomfiture. 
"  Take  care,  or  you'll  be  committed  for  contempt  of 
court.  What  do  you  do  for  a  living  besides  charring  ? " 

"  Bless  my  eyes,  don't  get  into  such  a  fluster  ! "  re- 
monstrated the  wretch,  cringingly.  "  I'll  say  or  do 
whatever  ye  like." 

"  Stand  down  !  "  roared  Mr.  Kean.  "  Pardon,  Mr. 
Justice  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  but  in  spite  of  all 
our  care  to  produce  this  witness  in  a  state  of  decent 
sobriety,  she  has  contrived  to  elude  our  vigilance,  and 
is,  as  you  may  see,  stupified  with  drink.  Call  for- 
ward Timothy  Poison." 

Nobody  making  any  objection  to  this,  Miss  Antoy- 
n et  Blaze  was  led  out  of  the  court,  muttering  a  volley 
of  oaths  as  she  -went,  and  casting  a  malignant  glance 
toward  Barb,  whom  she  had  fondly  hoped  to  damage 
irretrievably  by  blazoning  forth  her  own  shame,  and 
then  associating  the  young  girl  inextricably  with  her- 
self. Unfortunately,  her  natural  stupidity  had 
balked  her  design,  for  she  did  not  perceive  how  fatal 


256  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

to  her  credibility  as  a  witness  was  the  admission  she 
insisted  on  making,  namely,  that  she  had  been  pre- 
viously instructed  by  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution 
what  to  say. 

Some  odd  glances  were  interchanged  by  the  other 
side  as  she  staggered  out,  and  Mr.  Bonar,  the  counsel 
for  the  defendant,  made  a  note  or  two. 

Timothy  Poison  appeared  in  his  associate's  place, 
and  the  examination  proceeded. 

This  gentleman  being  far  more  in  fear  of  the  law 
than  Miss  Blaze,  or  not  being  upheld  by  her  pot- 
courage,  answered  all  Mr.  Hawksly's  questions  with 
meekness  and  a  very  gratifying  directness.  From 
him  the  assembled  throng  learned,  in  unmistakable 
terms,  quite  enough  of  the  private  affairs  of  old  Xan, 
connected  as  they  were  with  his  own,  to  brand  them 
both  with  a  character  of  blackest  infamy ;  and  this 
having  been  achieved,  Mr.  Hawksly  continued : 

"  How  long  have  you  known  the  prisoner  ?  " 

"Ever 'since  I  come  to  Cardinal  Court,  four  or 
five  years  ago,"  replied  Tim. 

"  Was  she  living  by  herself  ?  " 

"No;  she  wor  old  Nan's  gal.  Old  Nan  picked 
her  up  somewheres  around  the  Battery  or  tharabouts, 
when  she  wor  a  brat  in  long  clothes,  an'  reared  her  for 
to  be  a  comfort  to  her  when  she  got  old." 

"  What  was  the  prisoner's  occupation  then?  " 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  257 

"  H-m-ahem  !  Wai,  she  wor  pretty  smart  in  a 
crowd  ;  not  by  no  means  backward  of  any  of  'em  in 
the  court,  I  rayther  believe." 

"You  mean  that  she  was  an  accomplished  pick- 
pocket?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  that's  your  way  of  puttin' 
it." 

"  What  was  her  age  then  ? " 

"  Maybe  twelve,  and  the  rummest  little  sly  cuss 
you  ever  see.  Folks  used  to  stop  her  in  the  street  to 
give  her  pennies,  she  looked  so  precious  innercent  an' 
harmless,  an'  she'd  take  'em  off  to  old  Nan  an'  me 
arterwards,  tit  to  make  ye  bust." 

At  this  monstrous  lie  the  unfortunate  young  crea- 
ture turned  such  a  harrowing  look  of  wonder  and  re- 
proach upon  the  ruffian  that  he  was  fain  to  snatch  his 
eyes  from  hers,  and  take  refuge  in  feeling  all  his 
pockets  for  a  quid  of  tobacco.  More  than  one  of  the 
ladies  present  catching  that  eloquent  glance  grew 
paler,  and  tears  rushed  to  their  eyes. 

But  the  baron  and  baroness  sat  inflexible,  passing 
cruel  judgment  upon  her ;  the  judge  and  jury,  too, 
received  every  statement  with  a  matter-of-course  air, 
which  boded  .ill  for  their  leniency. 

Mr.  Ilawksly  proceeded : 

"  As  she  grew  older,  what  was  her  mode  of  life  ? " 

Again  Tim  cleared  his  throat  with  an  affectation 


258  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

of  reluctance,  and  then  made  a  hideous  assertion 
which  wrung  from  the  outraged  girl  a  sudden  wrath- 
ful cry. 

"  That's  false  !  false "  !  said  little  Barb,  stretch 
ing  her  slender  arms  and  lifting  her  crimson,  tear- 
wet  face  heavenward.  "  God  knows  it's  false ! 
Your  Honor,  believe  me,  I  would  have  starved,  or  let 
them  beat  me  to  death  before  I'd  have  stooped  to  be 
what  he  says !  " 

"  Your  Honor,"  interposed  Hawksly,  hastily,  "  we 
have  other  witnesses  to  substantiate  what  this  witness 
asserts.  ISTo  doubt  the  prisoner's  counsel  will  be  able 
to  refute  them  with  reliable  testimony  if  they  trifle 
with  the  truth." 

The  judge  bowed,  the  throng  whispered  dubiously, 
and  Hawksly  proceeded  in  a  great  hurry  : 

("  Under  what  circumstances  did  the  prisoner  leave 
the  shelter  of  Antoinette  Blaze's  roof  eighteen  months 
ago?" 

The  wretch  gave  a  glib  account  of  her  flight  with 
Barry,  whom  he  described  as  one  of  the  "  flash  cus- 
tomers from  Fifth  Avenoo,"  who  had  lured  Barb 
away  to  make  use  of  her ;  and  having  done  every- 
thing in  his  power  to  blast  the  prisoner's  character, 
he  was  about  to  quit  the  box  in  triumph,  when  Mr. 
Bonar  detained  him  to  put  him  through  a  rigid  cross- 
examination,  with,  however,  very  little  result,  thanks 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  259 

to  the  previous  drilling  he  had  received  from  Messrs. 
Kean  and  Ilawksly. 

After  his  exit,  several  disreputable  personages  ap- 
peared in  turn  on  the  stand,  and  swore  away  the  poor 
remains  of  little  Barb's  good  name,  until  there  was 
not  a  soul  there  who  did  not  look  upon  her  as  an  ut- 
terly lost  and  abandoned  creature,  having  come  into 
the  world  through  her  parents'  shame,  her  only  inheri- 
tance their  vicious  proclivities,  and  her  life  a  contin- 
uation of  theirs, — this  was  accepted  by  the  mass  pre- 
sent, with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  her  friend 
the  good  clergyman,  and,  yes,  perhaps  Lionel  Roscoe, 
if  one  might  judge  by  the  painful  intensity  of  the 
gaze  he  kept  fastened  upon  her,  and  the  impatient- 
gnawing  of  his  nails  and  frequent  writhings  in  his 
seat,  as  if  he  would  fain  be  on  his  feet  contradicting 
every  word.  And  yet  Lionel  Roscoe  firmly  believed 
in  her  guilt  as  a  murderess. 

The  next  to  be  called  upon  the  stand  was  Mrs. 
Fairleigh's  groom,  who  had  time  and  again  accom- 
panied Mrs.  Harrison  Fairleigh  and  Miss  Marah  Leith 
in  their  drives  together,  and  who  testified  to  the  un- 
mistakable affection  which  was  between  them,  and 
to  the  remonstrances  which  he  had  more  than  once 
overheard  Barb  making  in  Miss  Leith's  room  to  the 
intimacy,  which  she  had  designated  as  "dangerous," 
and  "  sure  to  come  to  no  good,"  etc.,  etc. 


260  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 


ft 


Then  Lionel  Roscoe  was  called,  and  went  through 
the  narrative  of  the  interview  between  Harrison  and 
Barb  in  Madison  Square,  with  the  significant  words 
he  had  heard  her  use. 

"  Beware  of  Barbara  Pomeroy  ! 51  quoted  Lionel ; 
and  a  hush  fell  on  the  jostling  and  staring  people, 
and  they  listened  breathlessly  to  this  the  first  testi- 
mony which  directly  implicated  the  accused  in  the 
crime  for  which  she  was  being  tried.  Lionel  went 
through  his  part  with  the  utmost  calmness  and  mod- 
eration, until  he  came  to  the  period  when,  having 
carried  Barb  off  from  the  theatre  in  spite  of  her  re- 
sistance, he  was  confronted  by  her  in  the  hotel. 

"Your  Honor,  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said 
the  young  Englishman,  loyal  to  fair  play  in  the  teeth 
of  public  opinion,  "  whatever  the  faults  of  the  un- 
happy woman  before  you  may  be,  I,  for  one,  will 
never  believe  her  deserving  of  the  tainted  character 
these  people  have  chosen  to  brand  her  with.  Sup- 
posing me  to  have  abducted  her  for  a  wicked  purpose, 
she  confronted  me  upon  my  entering  into  her  presence 
as  any  other  virtuous  woman  would  have  confronted 
the  scoundrel  who  sought  to  betray  her — she  was 
ready  to  choose  death  to  dishonor.  Had  I  presumed 
to  touch  her  she  would  have  thrown  herself  from  the 
window.  Come,  whatever  she  is,  she  is  guiltless  of 
shame ! " 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  261 

The  two  lawyers  for  the  prosecution  rewarded  him 
with  a  severe  frown,  and  the  judge  looked  puzzled  ; 
but  the  frail  girl  at  the  bar  turned  her  sweet  white 
face  upon  him  with  a  gentle  gratitude  that  somehow 
wrung  his  very  heart,  and  made  the  next  questions 
which  he  was  called  npon  to  answer  seem  doubly 
horrible. 

These  all  pertained  to  the  immediate  scenes  of  the 
fatal  night,  from  the  time  when  Barb  was  introduced 
into  the  house  of  the  baron  to  the  moment  when 
Lionel  rushed  into  Katherine's  bedchamber  and  dis- 
covered her  lying  dead  from  strangulation,  and  Barb 
lying  across  her  insensible,  with  her  hand  still  "twisted 
in  the  rope  of  pearls  which  she  had  used  to  murder 
her  with. 

This  portion  of  his  testimony  was  corroborated  by 
Mrs.  Archer,  the  housekeeper,  by  the  baron,  and  by 
a  host  of  servants,  who  had  hurried  to  the  spot  upon 
the  first  alarm  raised  by  Lionel. 

These  all  having  been  examined  and  carefully 
cross-examined  by  the  counsel  for  the  defendant,  Mr. 
Kean  said,  solemnly : 

"  This  is  the  case,"  and  sat  down. 

"  Call  forward  the  witnesses  for  the  defence,"  said 
the  judge,  breaking  into  the  buzz  and  murmur  of 
excited  voices. 

The  first  to  enter  the  box  was  Mrs.  Fairleigh  ;  ex- 


262  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

amined  by  Mr.  Bonar,  she  gave  a  beautiful  testimony 
to  the  worth  of  little  Barb  ;  indeed,  so  tenderly  did 
she  speak  of  the  simplicity,  heroism,  and  pure  sincer- 
ity of  the  young  girl's  character  ever  since  she  had 
known  her,  that  many  who  heard  her  wept  for  sym- 
pathy, and  looking  on  the  accused  through  her  eyes 
for  the  nonce,  vowed  they  saw  her  lovely  spirit  shin- 
ing through,  and  that  such  as  she  seemed  could  not, 
for  sure,  be  guilty.  She  did  her  best,  also,  to  do  away 
with  the  unfavorable  impression  so  craftily  instilled 
into  the  public  mind  by  Ilawksly's  insinuations  re- 
garding her  birth,  by  narrating  the  conversation  which 
had  taken  place  between  Mrs.  Pomeroy  and  Barb  on 
that  subject  the  night  the  young  girl  was  kidnapped, 
and  though  this  was  scarcely  in  order,  it  told  decid- 
edly. The  jury,  too,  seemed  vastly  impressed  by  the 
good  lady's  explanations ;  in  fact,  it  told  on  all  pres- 
ent, which  Messrs.  Kean  and  Hawksly  no  sooner  per- 
ceived than  they  set  to  work  to  destroy  the  effect  by 
holding  up  Mrs.  Fairleigh's  well-known  charities — of 
which  there  were  enough  to  have  shamed  them  into 
a  better  spirit — to  ridicule,  as  the  one  foible  of  her 
otherwise  well-balanced  mind,  citing  several  laugh- 
able incidents  in  which  she  had  been  egregiously  mis- 
taken. Of  course  there  was  but  one  impression  left 
on  people's  minds  -after  they  were  finished  with  the 
subject — that  little  Barb  was  the  latest  fraud  who  had 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  263 

victimized  her  protectoress.  Be  sure  the  name  of 
Marah  Leith  had  not  been  left  ontof  this  discussion  ; 
nor  Barb's  confidential  terms  with  her  allowed  to  re- 
dound to  her  honor.  As  Mrs.  Fairleigh  stepped  down 
from  the  witness-box  she  had  the  agony  of  feeling 
that  she  had  done  all  in  her  power  to  vindicate  the 
innocent,  and  that  her  efforts  were  already  frus- 
trated. 

The  next  witness  called  up  was  Hugh  "Wayne's 
sister  Xettie,  whom  we  last  saw  at  Thunder  Peak, 
sewing  on  Barry  Pomeroy's  wedding  veil,  the  night 
she  fled  from  home. 

Mr.  Bonar's  object  in  producing  her  was  to  prove 
the  existence  of  another  Barbara  Pomeroy,  and  so 
gradually  to  build  up  such  a  case  of  circumstantial 
evidence  against  this  other,  that  the  motive  which 
was  ascribed  to  Barb  as  actuating  the  deed,  might  be 
explained  away.  If  they  could  succeed  in  this,  Barb's 
own  story  of  the  manner  in  which  the  deceased  met 
her  death  would  have  some  chance  to  be  received 
with  due  weight. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  inquired  the  counsel  for 
the  defence. 

"  Annette  Wayne,"  replied  the  pretty  young  lady, 
in  charming  confusion. 

''Where  do  you  live?" 

"  At  Eensselacr's  Landing." 


264  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

"  Were  you  ever  acquainted  with  any  one  of  the 
name  of  Barbara  Pomeroy  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir."  faltered  Nettie,  looking  down. 

"  Look  on  the  prisoner,  if  you  please.  Is  she  the 
Barbara  Pomeroy  you  knew  \  " 

"  No." 

There  was  a  great  sensation  at  this.  It  was  the 
first  inkling  the  public  Had  that  there  was  another 
Barbara  Pomeroy ;  it  was  the  first  inkling  the  law- 
yers on  the  other  side  had  that  there  was  another 
Barbara  Pomeroy.  Astonishment  sat  on  every  face. 
A  sudden  light  gleamed  over  Lionel  Roscoe's.  He 
leaned  back  with  folded  arms,  almost  smiling  on 
little  Barb  ! 

"  Who  was  the  Barbara  Pomeroy  you  knew  ?  " 
continued  Mr.  Bonar,  quietly. 

"  She  was  the  daughter  of  our  late  minister,  and 
livfed  with  her  mother  in  her  uncle's  house  at  Thun- 
der Peak,  some  miles  from  my  home." 

"Your  late  minister — was  he  an  American?"  . 

"No,  sir,  he  came  from  England  when 'he  was  a 
young  man." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  his  antecedents  ? " 

"  Nothing  positively.  Some  said  he  came  of  good 
blood." 

"  Does  the  prisoner  at  all  resemble  him  \  " 

"  Yes.  she  is  as  like  him  as  woman  can  be  to  man." 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  265 

"  Very  good,  we  shall  return  to  this  again.  Now 
about  Miss  Pomeroy. 

"  What  did  you  know  of  her  ? " 

"  Nothing  but  good — nothing  but  good,  poor 
Barry ! "  returned  the  young  lady  with  emotion. 
"  "We  went  to  school  together,  we  grew  up  together. 
When  she  became  engaged  to  my  brother  Hugh,  I 
was  as  happy  as  he,  for  she  was  the  loveliest,  the 
best,  the  cleverest  girl  in  all  the  country  side ;  at 
least,  we  thought  so." 

"  What  is  your  brother's  occupation  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  doctor." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  he  became  engaged  to  Bar- 
bara Pomeroy  ? " 

"  About  two  years." 

"  Are  they  married  now  ? " 

"No." 

"  Are  they  still  engaged  to  each  other  ? " 

"No." 

"  What  broke  the  match  off  ? " 

"  Alas  !  I  don't  know.  Until  lately,  Hugh  himself 
could  not  guess." 

"  When  did  you  last  see  Barbara  Pomeroy  ?  " 

"Eighteen  months  ag  >." 

"  TJnder  what  circumstances  \  " 

''  It  was   the  week   before  she  was   to  have  been 

married.     I  and  cousin   Lizzie   Bright  were  at  her 
12 


266  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

uncle's  house,  helping  her  with  her  wedding  things ; 
we  were  to  be  bridesmaids.  She  had  been  in  a 
queer  mood  all  day — sort  of  nervous  and  hysterical, 
we  thought;  but  we  supposed  it  natural  enough, 
and  did  not  trouble  about  it.  However,  that  even- 
ing she  seemed  so  excited  that  Hugh  got  alarmed, 
and  went  out  with  her  to  the  garden  to  find  out 
what  was  the  matter.  I  believe  she  put  him  off 
Math  some  excuse,  promising  to  tell  him  what 
troubled  her  in  the  morning.  In  the  morning  she 
was  gone ! " 

"Gone?    Where?" 

"Nobody  could  tell.  She  left  a  letter  for  her 
mother,  bidding  her  good-by,  and  promising  to  come 
back  when  she  was  happy  again." 

"Could  no  one  guess  what  induced  her  to  act  in 
such  an  extraordinary  manner  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there  were  many  guesses  made,  but  all  unjust 
and  without  foundation,  I  am  sure." 

"  Mention  some  of  them." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  do  so,  sir  ;  I  love  Barry  Pomeroy  ! 
They  said  that  she  had  run  off  with  a  lover  from  the 
city.  I  know  it  was  false." 

"  Can  you  prove  that  it  was  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  What  foundation  was  there  for  such  a  rumor  ?  " 

"  Some  of  the  neighbors  said  they  had  seen  her  in 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  267 

conversation  with  a  young  gentleman,  a  stranger  in 
our  parts.  I  can't  believe  it,  because  she  never  said 
anything  about  any  stranger." 

"  Was  it  proved  that  there  was  a  stranger  staying 
at  Thunder  Peak  about  that  time  ? " 

"  ISTo,  not  at  Thunder  Peak,  but  there  was  at  the 
hotel  in  Rensellaer's  Landing." 

"  His  name  ?  " 

"  His  name  was  Harrison  FairleigTi !  " 

There  was  another  sensation  in  court  at  these 
words.  The  people  swayed  to  and  fro  in  their 
excitement;  the  baron  and  baroness  turned  looks  of 
amazed  appeal  upon  their  lawyers,  who  sat  glaring 
helplessly  at  the  witness. 

The  judge  took  a  few  hurried  notes,  the  jurors 
whispered  animatedly  together;  Lionel  Roscoe's 
countenance  cleared  yet  more  radiantly.  Even  Mrs. 
Fairleigh  glanced  around  with  a  more  assured  air. 

But  the  prisoner's  s  \veet  face  was  hidden  in  her 
trembling  hands.  She  was  weeping  for  lost  Barry 
Pomeroy ! 

"What  proofs  are  there  to  substantiate  this  asser- 
tion ?  "  demanded  Kean,  jumping,  up. 

"  All  in  good  time,"  said  Bouar,  coolly.  "  Let  us 
finish  with  one  witness  before  we  summon  another. 
Now,  Miss  Wayne,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell 
the  court  what  you  next  knew  of  Barbara  Pomeroy  ? " 


268  FOE  AXD  AGAINST. 

"  For  more  than  a  year  we  could  hear  nothing, 
though  my  poor  brother  devoted  himself  to  the 
search  for  her,  to  the  ruin  of  his  practice  and  the 
breaking  of  his  heart.  But  one  evening  last  January 
a  young  lady  came  to  our  house  and  asked  to  see  my 
brother  on  private  business.  She  "was  a  friend  of  our 
lost  Barry's,  and  she  had  come  to  Hugh  with  news 
of  her." 

"  Did  you  see  the  lady  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  saw  her — I  gave  her  a  cup  of  hot  tea,  for 
she  was  cold  and  trembling." 

"  Did  you  hear  her  name  ? " 

"  I  did  not.' 

"  Would  you  know  her  if  you  saw  her  again  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  would  !  She  came  on  an  angel's  errand 
— I  shall  never  forget  her  sweet  face  !  " 

"  Do  you  see  her  in  court !  " 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

Nettie  turned  her  flushed  and  smiling  face  suddenly, 
and  stretching  out  her  arm  said,  with  deep  feeling  : 

"  In  the  prisoner's  dock,  where  I  am  sure  she  has 
no  rig]  it  to  be !  " 

A  wave  of  feeling  surged  over  the  court ;  a  faint 
hum  of  applause  rose,  to  be  instantly  checked,  how- 
ever, by  the  wily  Hawksly  springing  up  with  the  un- 
sympathetic query  : 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  269 

"Had  the  doctor's  fair  visitor  come  to  set  him 
upon  her  friend's  track,  that  she  might  spoil  her  game 
with  Mr.  Harrison  Fairleigh  ? " 

This,  not  being  a  question  in  form,  was  suppressed 
by  his  Honor  with  some  asperity,  but  it  had  served 
its  purpose,  and  in  reminding  all  present  of  the  alle- 
gations under  which  the  prisoner  lay,  effectually 
cooled  their  incipient  enthusiasm. 

"  My  brother  did  not  inform  me  what  the  young 
lady  had  confided  to  him,"  said  Nettie  Wayne,  when 
order  was  once  more  restored  ;  "  he  was  in  great 
trouble,  and  besides,  hastening  out  his  carriage  to 
drive  the  lady  up  to  Thunder  Peak  to  see  Barry's 
mother." 

"  They  went  that  same  night  to  Thunder  Peak,  did 
they  ?  "  proceeded  Mr.  Bonar. 

"  Yes,  in  the  middle  of  a  snow-storm,  through 
roads  drifted  in  places  breast-high,  so  anxious  was  the 
lady  to  reach  Mrs.  Pomeroy." 

"  And  what  happened  then  ?  " 

"  For  three  days  nothing  happened — they  were 
drifted  up  and  could  not  get  away,  then  they  came 
back  with  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  who  was  very  ill  ;  the/had 
found  her  at  the  point  of  starvation  beside  old  Mr. 
"West,  who  was  dying  of  paralysis.  We  nursed  her 
until  she  was  able  to  travel,  and  then  she,  the  young 
lady  and  Hugh,  went  to  the  city." 


270  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

"Were you  not  informed  for  what  purpose  they 
went  ? " 

"Not  in  so  many  words,  it  was  a  subject  I  knew 
to  be  frightfully  painful  to  Hugh,  and  of  course  I 
could  not  discuss  it  with  him  ;  but  he  let  me  gather 
that  Barry  was  in  some  sort  of  danger  which  this 
young  lady  was  trying  to  save  her  from,  and  that 
they  hoped  her  mother's  presence  would  be  a  safe- 
guard for  her." 

"What  excuse  did  the  prisoner  give  for  not  reveal- 
ing her  name  ? " 

"  She  gave  none,  but  Hugh  said  that  the  mention 
of  it  would  only  rouse  all  the  gossip  in  the  place.  I 
know  now  what  he  meant,  though  it  puzzled  me  so 
then — the  accident  of  her  name  being  the  same  as 
poor  Barry's,  not  to  mention  her  extraordinary  resem- 
blance to  our  minister,  would  have  been  quite  enough 
to  set  the  craziest  reports  about  the  country-side, 
especially  as  neither  the  young  lady  herself  nor  any 
one  else  could  account  for  the  coincidence." 

"  What  was  the  next  event  that  transpired  ?  " 

"  In  three  or  four  days  Hugh  came  back  alone*,  so 
crushed  and  despondent,  yet  trying  to  look  hopeful, 
that  I  knew  in  a  minute  that  whatever  had  befallen 
Barry,  she  had  not  melted  to  him.  All  he  told  me 
was,  that  God  had  sent  one  of  His  angels  to  look 
after  our  poor  girl,  and  that  he  hoped  some  day,  not 


FOR  AND  AGAINST.  271 

too  far  off,  to  see  her  back  to  her  mother's  side  in 
safety."  • 

-"What  next?" 

"  Alas  !  nothing  but  perplexity  and  mystery  for  me. 
A  week  afterward  my  brother  got  a  letter  written  in 
the  most  illiterate  sort  of  a  hand,  evidently  by  one 
entirely  unaccustomed  to  writing.  Stay,  I  have  it 
here,  he  left  it  on  his  office-table  when  he  went,  for 
he  was  in  the  saddest  way  !  " 

She  here  produced  a  scrap  of  paper  in  a  torn  en- 
velope, which  Mr.  Bonar  read  aloud,  and  then  passed 
to  the  judge. 

Does  our  gentle  friend  who  is  skimming  these 
pages  remember  that  dreary  scene  of  little  Barb  in 
her  foul  captivity,  scratching  her  appeal  to  "  one-eyed 
Sal,"  the  organ-grinder,  on  the  backs  of  a  knave  of 
hearts,  an  ace  of  diamonds,  and  a  ten  of  clubs,  with 
the  ends  of  some  burnt  matches,  while  her  jailor,  Tim 
Poison,  smoked  in  the  background  and  listened  en- 
joy ably  to  the  music  ? 

This  is  the  letter  of  her  envoy  to  Hugh  Wayne : 

"Sun— Litel  Barb  of  Cardnel  Cort  says  to  tel 
Doktr  that  she  is  in  trubl  cos  old  nan  has  her  and 
Bury  is  wuss,  and  I  ncs  meself  tha  tha  meensno  good 
by  the  dere  sweet  lam  that  I  thot  had  got  clar  of  them 
forever.  Yu  wil  find  me  at  my  logins  at  850  Ave., 


272  FOR  AND  AGAINST. 

top  floor,  lial  room,  by  name  one  Ide  Sal.     Very 
respectfully,  SAL." 

This  humble  epistle  was  addressed  in  characters 
and  spelling  which  no  one  would  have  been  bold 
enough  ever  to  suppose  could  reach  the  person  meant, 
to 


RENSLBS  LANDNG 

HUDSN  RIVE." 

"  This  letter  you  say  your  brother  received  a  week 
after  his  return  ?  "  proceeded  Mr.  Bonar  ;  "  he  an- 
swered it  by  going  to  the  city,  did  he  ?  " 

"  He  did.  He  told  me  that  Barry  was  worse,  he 
feared  worse  than  dead  ;  indeed,  he  was  in  such  a 
frightful  state  of  mind,  that  he  spoke  quite  wild,  and 
I  did  nothing  but  try  to  soothe  my  poor  fellow. 
"Within  an  hour  after  receiving  the  letter  he  had  gone, 
and  from  that  day  to  this,  I  have  neither  seen  nor 
heard  from  him.  For  —  forgive  me,  but  I  can  say  no 
more  now,  gentlejnen  —  my  —  my  poor  heart  is  break- 
ing, I  think  !  " 

And,  bathed  in  tears,  and  watched  in  profound 
silence  with  looks  of  respectful  sympathy,  the  trem- 
bling girl  was  led  from  the  witness-box. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

HOW   MAN   SMIRCHED   THE   PAGE    THAT    GOD  -COUNTED 
WHITE. 

'PEOPOS  of  the  last  witness's  testimony,  the 
^  next  brought  forward  by  the  counsel  for  the 
defence  was  One-eyed  Sal  herself,  who,  in 
words  uncouth  as  her  own  appearance,  spoke  such 
things  of  "little  Barb,  old  Nan's  gal,"  as  sent  the 
costliest  lace  handkerchief  in  the  house  to  eyes  not 
used  to  any  tears  that  were  not  drawn  thither  by  the 
reigning  prima  donna's  sorrows,  melodiously  warbled 
at  four  thousand  dollars  a  night. 

To  think  of  that  tiny  creature,  so  wan  and  sweet, 
clad  in  very  rags,  with  the  blue  marlvsof  brutal  abuse 
on  her  transparent  cheek  and  shivering,  unclothed 
shoulders,  running  out  barefooted  in  the  snow  to  give 
half  her  scanty  meal  to  Sal's  sick  boy;  or,  if  she  had 
nothing  else  to  give,  to  whisper  in  his  wondering  ear 
some  loving  endearment,  and  some  marvellously  pretty 
verse  about  "Jesus  and  the  Lamb,  and  such."  To 
catch  glimpses  of  her  here  among  the  desperate 

women  of.  Cardinal  Court,  cheering  them  to  "try 
12* 


274:  GOD1 8   WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED. 

again ! "  yonder  among  the  fierce,  drink-maddened 
brawlers  at  the  tavern  doors,  begging  them  in  loving 
tones,  by  name,  every  one  of  them,  as  if  they  were 
her  own  brothers,  to  "  come  away ;  "  to  "  go  home  to 
poor  Mollie,"  or  "  to  cast  a  thought,  for  pity's  sake, 
to  little  Jack  tied  in  his  chair  in  the  cold  garret,  and 
crying  for  daddie !  " 

"  Ah ! "  the  rude  orator  burst  out,  clasping  her 
skeleton  hands  together,  and  looking  at  the  prisoner 
with  eyes  as  wet  and  reverent  as  the  best  love  in  her 
heart  could  make  them ;  "  you  knew  the  way  to  all 
our  hearts,  you  did,  an'  there's  a  many  of  us  'ud  lay 
down  our  lives  this  day  to  save  ye,  an'  welcome  ! " 

Thank  God  for  that  cheer ! 

It  rang  out  from  bosoms  stirred  by  the  divine ;  it 
spoke  of  the  presence  of  the  noblest  of  human  emo- 
tions ;  it  shivered  for  a  little  season  that  hideous  idol 
— SELF — from  his  throne  in  too  many  hearts  there ;  it 
thrilled  the  foes  of  little  Barb  with  the  half  hope  that, 
after  all,  public  opinion  might  cast  such  a  shield 
around  their  prey  that  so-called  justice  would  be' 
balked,  and  her  friends  with  the  full  conviction  of 
her  innocence  being  shown  out  incontestably ; — ay, 
as  that  cheer  rang  out  from  the  multitude,  it  seemed 
as  if  the  very  heavens  brightened  and  glowed  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  God-like  instinct  of  pure  goodness 
that  for  one  moment  magnetized  the  mass. 


GOD'S  WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED.  275 

When  the  echoes  had  died  away — and  for  once  no 
one  uttered  any  protest — Mr.  Bonar  drew  from  the 
woman  the  most  satisfactory  corroboration  of  Miss 
Wayne's  statements  in  regard  to  the  letter  her  brother 
had  received,  with  a  characteristic  account  bf  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  it  had  been  written  ;  Barb's 
enforced  captivity,  the  current  reports  of  the  cruel- 
ties practised  upon  her  by  her  vile  jailors ;  Dr. 
Wayne's  arrival  in  the  city ;  anxiety  about  Barb ;  his 
letter  to  her,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Comparing  these  facts  with  Kean's  dark  insinua- 
tions concerning  the  young  man  Avho  had  interfered 
with  Mr.  Roscoe's  abduction  of  Barb  from  the  Opera 
House,  how  brightly  Mr.  Bonar  flashed  forth  his 
client's  purity  of  mind  and  purpose  throughout  the 
whole  of  the  transactions  which  had  been  so  distorted  ! 

The  next  witness  called  was  the  landlord  of  the 
hotel  in  Rensselaer's  Landing,  who  brought  his  visitor's 
book  for  last  year  to  prove  that  Harrison  Fairleigh, 
New  York,  had  spent  some  six  weeks  at  his  house 
during  the  summer  of  Barbara  Pomeroy's  disappear- 
ance from  her  home  at  Thunder  Peak. 

After  him  several  residents  of  the  place  came  for- 
ward, who  had  been  eye-witnesses  of  certain  passing 
meetings  between  the  said  gentleman  and  the  young 
girl.  Then  the  matron  of  the  institution  to  which 
Barb  had  brought  Barry  the  night  of  that  day  she 


276  GOD'S  WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED. 

had  rescued  her  from  the  jeering  mob  in  the  street. 
This  excellent  lady  described  the  young  woman  whom 
the  prisoner  had  brought  to  her  so  graphically,  that 
the  baroness  and  her  husband  listened  astonished, 
tracing  in  every  expression  a  perfect  reproduction  of 
Marah  Leith,  while  gentle  Mrs.  Fairleigh  sat  pale  and 
downcast,  with  her  teeth  buried  in  her  frigid  lip, 
ashamed. 

Soon  the  matron  was  asked  for  her  impressions  of 
the  character  of  the  prisoner ;  and  you  should  have 
seen  her  kindly  face  light  up  and  her  eye  moisten  as 
she  dwelt  on  "the  child's  modesty,  industry,  and 
lovely  generosity  to  her  friend,  the  other  girl,  who 
seemed  of  as  dark  and  gloomy  a  nature  as  she  was 
open  and  sweet,"  as  the  lady  expressed  herself.  She 
narrated  the  incident  of  Mrs.  Fairleigh's  visit  to  the 
institution  in  search  of  a  young  girl  suitable  to  adopt 
in  place  of  her  own  daughter,  when,  her  fancy  having 
been  captivated  by  the  gentle  graces  of  the  child 
Barb,  she  chose  her,  but  was  diverted  from  her  choice 
by  little  Barb  pleading  her  friend's  greater  need  of 
such  a  safe  and  tender  home,  and  supplicating  her  to 
take  Marah  Leith  instead  of  her. 

There  was  no  resisting  warm-hearted  Mrs.  Mar- 
tyn's  story.  Again  and  again  a  thrill  of  ungovern- 
able emotion  ran  through  the  multitude,  and  they 
felt  the  irresistible  power  of  simple  truth  as  they 


GOD'S   WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED.  277 

could  not  be  made  to  feel  the  clever  sophistries  of 
Kean  and  Ilawksly,  studied  as  these  were  for  weeks 
ahead.  In  conclusion,  she  assured  the  court  that  she 
had  kept  loving  track  of  the  prisoner  ever  since,  and 
had  nothing  to  say  of  her  course  but  what  was  ad- 
miring ;  so  steadily  and  nobly  had  she  worked  on 
alone,  keeping  her  name  as  pure  as  the  highest  lady's 
in  broad  America ! 

And  as  she  stepped  down,  again  the  people  cheered 
for  Barb,  till  shy  roses  began  to  bloom  in  her  thin 
cheeks  and  diamond  drops  of  gratitude  to  twinkle  in 
her  modest  eyes. 

After  her  came  Barb's  boarding-house  mistress,  who 
testified  to  her  boarder's  unassailable  character,  and 
unchangeable  goodness  of  life  all  the  time  she  had 
been  in  her  house  ;  who  also  attested  to  the  arrival 
of  an  old  lady  of  the  name  of  Pomeroy,  whom  Miss 
Pomeroy  had  brought  from  the  country  with  her 
some  few  days  before  the  commission  of  the  murder, 
and  lodged  in  her  front  room,  first  story ;  she  also 
remembered  the  visits  of  Dr.  Wayne  to  Mrs.  Pome- 
rov,  and  wound  up  with  the  sudden  astonishing  dis- 
appearance of  Barb,  succeeded  by  the  no  less  per- 
plexing removal  of  Mrs.  Pomeroy  by  the  strange 
young  lady  at  the  dead  of  night.  This  narration 
dovetailed  perfectly  into  one-eyed  Sal's  account  of 
Barb's  captivity  in  Cardinal  Court,  and  set  the  whole 


278  GOD'S   WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED. 

story,  neatly  linked  together,  at  last  before  the 
court. 

"  This  is  the  last  of  ray  witnesses  for  the  defence, 
your  Honor,  "  said  Mr.  Bonar,  somewhat  sadly  ;  "  none 
of  them,  I  own,  seem  to  touch  the  real  question  at 
issue;  but,  surely,  in  all' this  heterogeneous  mass  of 
testimony  to  the  prisoner's  beauty  of  character,  we 
may  hope  to  catch  the  glitter  of  that  lost  diamond, 
belief  in  her  innocence.  I  have  now  to  ask  the 
respectful  attention  of  the  court  while  my  client  says 
the  few  words  she  has  to  say  in  explanation  of  her 
entanglement  with  this  most  unhappy  affair." 

"With  this  he  sat  down,  and  in  deep  silence  the 
people  waited  for  little  Barb  to  plead  for  her  life. 

So  then  the  child  called  up  all  her  fortitude,  and 
in  low  and  tremulous  accents,  which  gradually 
gathered  strength  as  her  feelings  kindled,  she  said : 

"  I  ain't  got  much  to  say  about  myself,  and  what  I 
Jiave  ain't  going  to  clear  me  any,  'cos  I  have  only  my 
word  for  it,  which  they  say  don't  go  for  nothing. 
What  I  would  like  to  say,  though,  is  that  seems  to 
me  things  have  bore  so  hard  on  Barry  that  she's 
agoing  to  be  thought  worse  of  than  she  has  any  right 
to  be.  You  see,  gentlemen  an'  ladies,"  said  Barb, 
warming,  "  this  Barry  Pomeroy  were  born  sort  of 
high  strung,  with  a  sperrit  delicater  an'  more  easy 
hurt  than  the  like  of  mine  ;  so  that  what  would  ou'y 


GOD'S   WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED.  279 

given  me  a  passing  sting,  hit  her  mortal.  When  she 
were  at  Thunder  Peak,  oh,  I  know  she  were  all  that 
the  dear  good,  young  lady  said — the  modestest,  the 
kindest,  the  dutif  ulest — oh,  my  ! — to  think  that  a  bad 
man  could  change  her  so !  *  When  I  fust  see  her,V 
exclaimed  little  Barb,  looking  round  with  glistening 
eyes,  "  she  were  fresh  from  her  mother ;  she  were 
that  frightened  an'  iunercent,  that  I  felt  old,  bless 
you,  as  Methuselah  beside  her !  an'  so  pretty  an'  soft- 
spoken,  though  even  then  she  were  full  of  the  bitter 
affront  Mrf  Harrison  Fairleigh  had  put  upon  her,  by 
offeriir  a  love  that  could  on'y  disgrace  her.  It  goes 
agin  ray  heart,  God,  He  knows,  to  say  a  word  agin 
the  son  of  my  dear  lady  here,  but  she  has  bidden -me 
to  speak  out  and  spare  nobody,  rather  than  injustice 
should  be  done." 

And  in  simple  language  she  told  the  story  which 
I,  far  less  affectingly  and  more  clumsily,  I  own,  have 
claimed  your  attention  so  long  in  telling ;  the  story 
of  Barry's  wrong  and  Barry's  revenge. 

Her  narrative  necessarily  brought  in  Mrs.  Pomeroy 
and  Hugh  Wayne,  and  in  such  a  manner  that  if  they 
could  only  have  been  produced  to  bear  her  out,  her 
case  would  have  assumed  at  once  a  hopeful  color. 

But  alas  !  both  were  mysteriously  missing — and 
who  was  to  prevent  the  lawyers  for  the  prosecution 
from  insinuating  that  they  purposely  kept  out  of  the 


280  GOZTS   WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED. 

way,  rather  than  meddle  in  a  conspiracy  which  some 
trifling  folly  of  the  Barbara  of  Thunder  Peak  had 
laid  her  open  to  the  suspicion  of  being  mixed  up  in, 
and  which  they  would  not  expose  ? 

"  If  she  were  here,  poor  Barry's  mother,"  cried 
Barb,  eagerly,  "  she  would  tell  ye  all  what  a  comfort 
her  daughter  were  to  her  till  he  came  to  poison  her ; 
or  Dr.  Wayne,  he  would  show  ye  far  better  than  I 
can,  what  a  noble  nature  she  had ;  an'  sure,  don't  the 
highest  come  the  lowest  of  all  when  they  fall  ?  My 
poor  Barry  jest  couldn't  live  peaceable  after  he'd  in- 
sulted her,  for,  d'ye  see,  she  loved  him,  that  girl  did, 
with  all  her  heart  an'  soul;  an'  oh,  my  !  what  a  big 
heart  it  were,  an'  what  a  proud  soul !  air  to  think  that 
any  man,  with  a  sweet  angel  mother  to  think  of,  could 
go  for  to  make  so  light  of  a  woman  as  that !  God  have 
mercy  on  Barry  Pomeroy,  it  set  her  crazy,  it  did !  no, 
no,  no  !  I'll  never  b'lieve  she  were  herself  the  night 
she  passed  her  mother  by  with  a  laugh  in  Baron  Ilen- 
drick's  ball-room  ;  nor  when  she  coaxed  me  so  soft  an' 
smooth  to  b'lieve  she  were  a-goin'  to  give  it  all  up  an' 
go  back  to  her  mother,  an'  then  set  old  NVin  an'  Tim 
Poison  on  me — no,  God  forgive  me,  I  ought  ter  have 
seen  she  were  mad,  an'  took  better  care  on  her." 

And  then,  "mid  death-like  silence,  she  tremblingly 
went  on  to  tell  her  vision  of  Katherine  Ilendrick's 
death. 


GOD'S   WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED.  281 

"  "When  I  lieard  her  speak  to  Mr.  Roscoe,  I  were 
struck  with  the  still  way  she  spoke ;  an'  thinks  I,  'sure, 
I  never  heard  a  voice  so  wailin'  sad,  or  is  it  on'y  m;y 
own  trouble  makes  me  think  it  so  ? "  An'  then  she 
let  me  in,  an'  when  I  saw  her  face,  an  awful  creep 
went  through  me,  for  it  were  death-struck,  jest  as  sure 
as  if  the  pearl  rope  were  round  her  pretty  throat 
then  !  An',  oh,  my !  oh,  my  f  to  think  that  I  were  so 
blind  an'  stupid  that  I  couldn't  understand  ! " 

And  here  the  prisoner  burst  into  a  fit  of  ungovern- 
able grief,  and  at  sight  of  her  slender  figure  bowed 
and  shaking  with  convulsive  sobs,  the  ladies  all  wept 
for  sympathy  and  admiration,  but  Mr.  Kean  whis- 
pered audibly  to  Mr.  Ilawksly  : 

"  Bonar  knows  how  to  make  a  point,  eh  ?  Yery 
well  done,  indeed  !  "  and  then  the  ladies  dried  their 
tears  and  felt  ashamed  of  them. 

"  She  had  on  a  white  gown,  an'  her  hair  were  all 
hangin'  down  her  back  wild  like,  as  if  she'd  been 
tearin'  it,"  Barb  went  on ;  "  an'  she  sat  down  by  a 
little  bit  of  a  table  that  had  a  open  letter  lyin'  spread 
out  on  it,  and  she  kept  a-lookin'  at  that  letter  all  the 
time  she  were  a-talkin'  with  me,  as  if  she  couldn't  for- 
get it  or  look  at  it  enough.  I  can't  rightly  tell  all  we 
said ;  I'd  gone  there  for  to  warn  her  to  look  out  for 
poor  Barry;  but  when  she  spoke  as  if  she  knew 
already,  an'  said,  with  her  eyes  on  the  letter,  as  if  she 


282  GO&S   WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED. 

were  readin'  of  it  there, '  He  loves  her !  How  lie  loves 
her ! '  I  saw  that  Barry  had  been  before  me,  an' 
crushed  the  poor  lady  with  the  truth — maybe  written 
her  the  very  letter  that  troubled  her  so ;  and  I  didn't 
say  much.  But  well  1  mind  the  shiver  in  her  voice, 
an'  the  white  hands  of  her  thrust  inter  her  lovely  hair, 
as  she  said,  moanin',  '  I  know  all — she'll  take  no 
vengeance  on  him  ;  she^s  took  it  all  on  me ! '  an'  with 
that  she  turned  her  to  the  letter  agin,  an'  forgot  me, 
till  Mr.  Roscoe,  he  called  out  to  her.  After  he  had 
talked  to  her  a  bit,  she  were  for  sen  din'  me  away,  but 
I  were  so  frightened  that  Barry  meant  her  some  harm 
that  night,  besides  the  queer  kind  of  uneasiness  I  had 
about  her,  seein'  her  in  that  state  of  mind,  that  I 
coaxed  her  till  she  let  me  stay,  if  I  would  sleep  on 
the  sofa  in  her  parlor.  Mr-  Roscoe,  I  mind,  was  very 
angry,  but  she  wouldn't  hear  him,  saying  that  she 
was  safer  with  me  than  with  herself,  an'  he  had  to 
let  her  have  her  way.  "When  we  were  alone  again, 
she  laid  her  face  down  on  the  letter,  an'  forgot  me ; 
an'  at  last  I  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer,  an'  crept 
up  to  her,  an'  tried  to  comfort  her  with  what  has 
given  me  the  only  strength  I  have  for  to  meet  my 
troubles  with — I  mean  the  love  an'  pity  that's  felt  for 
us  up  in  heaven — but  oh !  oh !  poor  lady,  she  were  too 
unhappy  to  heed  me !  She  said  she  must  not  forget 
her  prayers  that  night,  and  had  it  coine  to  this  !  An' 


GOD'S  WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED.  283 

with  that  up  she  gets,  an'  goes  about  the  room  dis- 
tracted. Then  she  remembered  me,  an'  told  me  in 
her  high  way  that  I  saw  a  proud  woman  whose  prido 
was  blighted :  that  blighted  pride  was  hard  to  bear, 
but  blighted  love  was  harder ;  that  she  thought  she 
had  no  heart,  but  that  to-night  she  had  found  she  had. 
She  said  she  loved  him  (Mr.  Harrison,  she  meant),  an' 
that  she  could  have  parted  with  anything  she  had,  her 
beauty,  an'  money,  and  popularity — only  not  his  love. 
She  said  she  could  take  no  comfort  out  of  what  I  said 
about  heaven,  she  were  too  desp'rate,  an'  envied  me 
my  tears.  An'  then  she  sent  me  to  her  dressing-room 
for  the  string  of  pearls,  say  in'  they  were  his  present 
to  his  bride,  an'  that  she  would  wear  them  sure  that 
night.  God  pity  me,  I  brought  them  to  her — oh, 
why  was  mine  the  hand  !  " 

There  was  a  pause  here,  broken  by  sobs  from  every 
part  of  the  house.  It  was  a  pitiful  tale,  and  surely 
worth  a  tear  or  two,  even  if  not  all  true. 

"  1  mind  now  how  her  eyes  seemed  to  flame  up  as 
she  took  the  thing  from  me,"  resumed  the  prisoner, 
"  an'  how  she  kissed  it  over  an'  over,  callin'  it  a  pre- 
cious gift,  an'  say  in'  that  he  would  know  how  she'd 
loved  him  when  he  heard  how  she  wore  it  that  night, 
air  f lien — then  she  kissed  me,  an'  sent  me  away.  An' 
so  I  sat  on  the  floor  by  her  chamber-door  keepin' 
watch  over  her  for  fear  of  Barry,  till — till  the  sounds 


284:  GOD'S  WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED. 

woke  me  up  from  I  don't  know  how  long  a  sleep,  and 
when  I  ran  in  she  gave  me  one  look,  an'  twisted  her 
hands  in  tighter,  an'  we  struggled,  an'  I  got  my  hands 
in  too.  try  in'  to  break  the  string,  an' — an' — that's  al] 
I  have  to  say." 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

The  lawyers  rose  to  argue  the  case. 

Of  course  the  statements  made  by  the  prisoner 
could  not  materially  affect  it,  as  what  she  said,  unsup- 
ported by  further  proof,  could  not  be  taken  as  evi- 
dence. Moreover,  there  was  one  important  discre- 
pancy in  her  narrative  which  could  not  be  explained 
satisfactorily.  The  letter  which  played  such  an  im- 
portant part — where  was  it  ?  Xo  human  eye  but  her's 
had  ever  beheld  it.  When  did  it  arrive  to  Miss  Ilen- 
drick  ?  Not  per  post ;  that  the  footman  who  brought 
np  the  evening  delivery  from  the  letter-box  could 
testify.  No  visitor  had  been  seen  to  enter  or  leave 
Baron  Ilendrick's  house  during  the  evening.  ]S"o 
ashes  as  of  consumed  paper  had  been  found  in  Miss 
Ilendrick's  grate.  In  fact  the  existence  of  that  letter 
was  too  important,  as  furnishing  the  missing  motive 
for  Katherine  Ilendrick's  suicide,  to  be  passed  by 
without  keen  controversy  between  the  contend  ing 
counsel :  and  so  acute  was  their  controversy  that  it 
came  at  last  to  be  the  one  point  upon  which  the 
whole  of  the  case  turned. 


GOD'S  WHITE  PAGE  SMIRCHED.  285 

If  that  letter  could  be  produced,  Barb's  safety  war 
assured  ;  if  not — God  have  mercy  on  her ! 

It  could  not  be  produced. 

And  so,  this  is  how  they  made  the  story  run. 

An  ignorant  girl,  well-meaning,  possibly,  but  bred 
amid  such  scenes  as  would  blunt  an  angel's  sensibili- 
ties, falls  into  the  hands  of  a  clever  young  woman, 
who  desires  to  rise  in  life  by  fair  means  or  by  foul. 
"When  the  rich  Mr.  Fairleigh  comes  along,  the  clever 
adventuress  resolves  to  appropriate  him,  and  makes 
use  of  her  humbler  companion  and  accomplice  to 
attain  her  ends.  Inflamed  with  hatred  against  her 
rival,  Miss  Ilendrick,  she  induces  her  tool  to  murder 
her,  while  she  elopes  with  the  prize.  The  deed  is  done 
clumsily,  the  murderess  is  caught  in  the  act,  there- 
fore : 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  have  you  well  and  truly 
considered  your  verdict  ? " 

"We  have." 

"  What  say  you,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  is  the  pris- 
oner at  the  bar  Guilty  or  not  Guilty  ? " 

And  they  answered : 

"  GUILTY  ! " 


CHAPTER  XXL 

BACK  FKOM  DEATH5  8  PORTAL. 

UT  while  all  this  was  happening  in 
York,  some  very  strange  events  were  hap- 
pening out  of  it;  these  we  will  now  relate, 
having  once  more  to  retrograde  to  the  night  of  Kathe- 
rine  Hendrick's  death,  and  Barbara  Pomeroy's  mar- 
riage with  her  faithless  lover,  Harrison  Fairleigh. 

The  suicide  bride  lay  stark  and  stiff  in  her  dis- 
tracted husband's  arms ;  he  uttered  a  cry  that 
brought  the  household  rushing  to  the  room. 

"  She's  dead  !  "  raved  the  bridegroom,  "  oh,  will  no 
one  rid  me  of  my  cursed  life  too? — Barry — Barry — 
Barry!  "and  he  poured  forth  despair  like  a  mad- 
man. 

Now  there  chanced  to  be  in  the  household  an  old 
fellow,  a  worthless,  good-hearted,  versatile,  do-nothing 
Jack-of-all  trades,  who  had  had  a  probation  in  every 
occupation  you  could  name,  from  a  surgeon's  appren- 
tice to  his  present  one,  an  nnder-butler.  He,  watch- 
ing this  scene  with  the  moist  eyes  of  sympathetic  and 


BACK  FROM  DEATH'S  PORTAL.  287 

spirituous  sexagenarian  ism,  felt  moved  to  view  the 
lovely  corse  yet  closer,  and  ventured  near,  unrebuked 
by  his  frenzied  master. 

As  his  wrinkled  hand  touched  the  soft  and  clammy 
satin  of  her  brow : 

"  Quick !  out  with  ye,  every  one ;  by  the  Lord,  I 
may  bring  her  back  yet !  "  cried  this  worthy,  and  he 
drove  his  fellow-servants  out  with  all  the  impetuosity 
of  the  true  Bohemian ;  and  struck  docile  by  hij 
decision  in  the  midst  of  their  chaotic  panic,  they 
flocked  from  the  room  again  like  sheep. 

Then  he  grasped  his  master  hard  by  the  shoulder, 
and  the  painful  grip  brought  him  something  to  him- 
self. 

"  Where  does  this  blood  come  from  ? "  queried  the 
man. 

"  Iler  arm — she  opened  a  vein,  and  bled  to  death," 
shuddered  the  master. 

"  Fool !  "  muttered  the  Jack-of -all-trades,  with  the 
fearless  candor  of  that  character,  "why  didn't  ye 
bind  it  up  with  your  handkerchief,  and  make  a  tour- 
niquet of  yonder  essence-bottle,  while  ye  sent  for  the 
doctor?" 

"  Alas !  I  did  try  to  stop  it,  and  so,  sweet  soul,  did 
she ;  but  see,  the  blood  would  escape,  and  steal  her 
life  away  with  it ! "  and  in  anguish  he  showed  the 
statuesque  arm  of  his  treacherous  darling,  bound 


288  BA  CK  FROM  DEATH'S  PORTAL. 

securely  enough  to  all  appearance,  yet  saturated  with 
fresh  crimson. 

"She  helped  ye  to  tie  this  knot,  I'll  warrant, 
grunted  the  wiseacre.  "  I  can  stick  ray  fingers  right 
through  it.  I  see,  she  was  bound  to  give  ye  the  slip, 
sir.  Ain't  that  a  woman,  all  over  ?  She'd  sell  her 
soul  to  have  her  lover  from  another  woman,  an'  when 
she  got  him  she'd  rather  die  than  put  up  with  the 
stings  of  her  own  silly  conscience  !  " 

"  Oh,  Barry — Barry — Barry  ! "  moaned  her  lover, 
subsiding  again. 

"  Mr.  Fairleigh,"  said  the  man,  grimly,  and  his 
lithe  hands  were  busy  about  her  exquisite  bosom,  as 
he  spoke,  "  Wotever  were  atween  this  lady  an'  you, 
is  none  o'  my  business.  Gents  has  their  amoose- 
ments  an'  ladies  has  their  tiffs ;  wot  I've  got  to  say 
is,  do  ye  want  her  to  live  or  die,  now  ?  " 

"Heavens,  man,  what  do  you  mean?  Is  she  not 
dead  now?"  cried  Harrison,  hoarsely,  as  he  glared 
with  frenzy  in  his  blood-shot  eye  into  the  cunning  orb 
of  his  servant. 

"  No!  "  grinned  that  functionary. 

Harrison  clutched  him — hung  on  him  trembling, 
gobbing,  trying  to  ask  him  what  he  was  to  do  ;  and 
his  man  took  in  the  situation  with  a  practised  man's 
experienced  eye,  and  made  his  plans  with  a  practised 
man's  promptness. 


BACK  FROM  DEATH'S  PORTAL.  289 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  lie,  pleasantly,  "  I  were  once  in  a 
surgeon's  office  in  that  very  city  of  New  York  for 
two  years,  and  saw  operations  performed  that  would 
knock  this  here  one  all  to  sticks.  I  think  I  can  do 
it,  you've  only  to  say  the  word,  and  name  your  valu- 
ation of  my  services." 

"  Do  what  ?  "  gasped  Harrison. 

"  Why,  bring  her  to  life  again  !  " 

"  My  God  !  Can  you  do  it,  and  you  stand  there 
wasting  time !  Do  it — do  it  now,  I  agree  to  any- 
thing ! "  cried  Harrison,  looking  frightfully  white 
and  eager. 

"  But  if  she  was  to  die  under  my  hands  ?  "  sug- 
gested the  man.  "  You  see,  master,  I  don't  want  to 
be  brought  into  this  here  row,  which  looks  pretty 
bad  for  some  of  us,  as  it  is.  There  is  precious  little 
time,  for  she's  fainted  for  loss  of  blood,  and  will 
never  come  to  until  wre  do  it,  but  we  must  risk  it, 
and  get  her  out  of  this  before  I'll  dare  to  put  a  hand 
on  her." 

"  Anything,  only  save  her  !  "  groaned  poor  Harri- 
son, whose  hopes  were  of  the  slimmest. 

"  All  right — for  a  thousand  dollars  I'll  undertake 
it,"  said  the  man.  Harrison  nodded.  "  You're  a 
gentleman!"  cried  the  gratified  scamp.  "If  I  fail, 
it  won't  be  my  fault.  Now,  we  lock  out  prying  eyes 

BO,"  suitino-  the  action  to  the  \vord,  "  and  wrap  her  up 
13 


290  BACK  FROM  LEATWS  PORTAL, 

as  warm  as  we  can,  to  keep  the  life  heat  in  her.  No 
fear  of  any  more  hemorrhage,  the  surface  is  too  cold 
now.  Get  your  money,  sir ;  prepare  for  anything, 
the  Lord  only  knows  what's  before  us  to-night." 

Harrison  obeyed  him  like  a  child.  Indeed,  the 
horror  of  that  sad  night  had  so  perfectly  unmanned 
him,  that  he  was  glad  to  surrender  his  will  to  any- 
body's who  seemed  cool  enough  to  bring  order  out  of 
the  chaos  of  his  affliction.  He  ran  about  at  his  man's 
commands ;  he  meanwhile  darting  out  of  the  room 
to  assure  his  terror-struck  colleagues  that  the  lady 
had  only  fainted,  and  was  all  right  again — and  to  get 
a  huge  jug  of  hot  water,  which  he  decanted  into  half 
a  dozen  bottles,  and  placed  about  the  body  of  the 
bride,  securing  them  in  their  places  by  winding  them 
in  with  the  shawls  in  which  he  wrapped  her  up ; 
then,  like  two  robbers,  the  master  and  man  crept  out 
of  the  house  by  the  Venetian  stairway  which  led 
from  the  bridal-chamber  to  the  river — carrying  the 
motionless  form  between  them — stole  the  carriage  and 
horses,  laid  her  at  full  length  in  the  bottom  of  the 
carriage,  half-buried  in  downy  coverlets — and  so,  the 
master  inside  with  his  burning  cheek  to  the  marble 
of  hers,  and  the  man  outside  lashing  the  thorough- 
breds, they  fled  to  a  solitary  house  hidden  under  a 
cliff,  where  the  man  took  them  in  with  all  the  airs  of 
proprietorship. 


BA  CK  FROM  DEATH '£  PORTAL.  291 

"  It's  all  right,"  grinned  he,  as  a  buxom  woman 
came  forward  from  a  hurried  toilet  in  the  inner  room, 
"  we've  been  man  and  wife  for  too  many  a  year  for 
to  blab  each  other's  secrets  now.  Poll,  look  spry,  the 
best  bed  for  the  lady." 

Too  absorbed  in  his  own  affairs  to  notice  how  much 
of  the  comfort  of  the  cottage  had  flagrantly  come 
from  his  own  mansion,  the  young  gentleman  bore  his 
burden  into  the  little  guest-chamber,  and  forthwith 
Yokes,  his  ally,  commenced  operations. 

All  was  now  bustle  and  dispatch. 

"  Hot  water,  Poll !  "  bawled  Yokes. 

A  bucket  of  it  was  at  his  foot  anon. 

"  Are  ye  willing  to  shed  blood  for  her,  Mr.  Fair- 
Icigli?"  briskly  queried  the  master  of  the  cere- 
monies. 

"  Yes,  yes,  only  begin ! "  cried  the  impatient  and 
bewildered  gentleman. 

"  Poll,  the  lancet !  Warm  this  syringe  in  the 
bucket.  Another  candle.  Unwind  her.  Now,  sir, 
your  arm.  My  tools  is  rather  rough,  but  I  gitess  I 
kin  fix  it," 

Harrison  stripped  his  arm,  and  watched  in  an  ec- 
stasy his  hot  blood  being  pumped  into  his  darling's 
cold  veins. 

"  She'll  love  me  forever,  now  my  life-blood  mixes 
with  her's  !  "  whispered  he,  at  which  the  cynic  by  his 


292  BA CK  FROM  DEATH'S  PORTAL. 

side  shot  a  sneer  to  his  spouse,  who  shook  her  head 
and  sighed,  as  saying  : 

"  Ay,  youth  raves  so,  but  old  age  finds  us 
colder ! " 

w  hen  he  was  ready  to  swoon — and  he  dissembled 
his  faintness  long  before  he  would  give  in  to  it,  in 
the  fond  terror  that  Yokes  would  not  give  his  Barry 
enough  of  him  to  live  on — they  gave  him  a  cordial, 
and  made  him  lie  down  and  keep  quiet  beside  her  ; 
and  so  he  passecT  the  night  brooding  over  her,  and 
toward  the  dawn,  he  and  Poll  being  the  watchers, 
Yokes  having  driven  back  with  the  horses  that  they 
might  not  be  traced,  Barry  opened  her  beautiful 
eyes,  and  slowly  came  out  of  the  other  world  with  a 
smile  of  ineffable  love  into  Harrison's,  and  then  she 
closed  them,  and  fell  at  once  into  a  sweet  restoring 
sleep. 

This  lasted  for  twenty-four  hours,  during  which 
master  and  man  lay  close,  and  not  a  word  of  the 
awful  events  that  were  going  on  outside  found  its 
way*  to  them  in  their  hiding-place. 

Harrison  had  ample  time  to  cast  a  retrospective 
eye  over  his  late  proceedings,  and  having  neither  the 
excitement  of  winning  a  bride  to  bedazzle  him,  nor 
the  anguish  of  mourning  her  death  to  blunt  his  com- 
mon sense,  he  obtained  a  most  prosaic  realization  of 
the  ass  he  had  made  of  himself  before  the  world,  and 


BACK  FROM  DEATH'S  PORTAL.  293 

felt  ready  to  slink  away  with  his  dear-bought  prize 
to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  where  no  soul  he 
had  ever  known  should  see  him. 

To  think  of  it !  even  now — now  as  he  sat  by  his 
sleeping  Barry's  side,  watching  her  bloodless  tfaee 
with  the  dark  hair  all  drifted  about  it,  his  little 
world  was  ringing  with  the  news  of  his  elopement 
with  his  mother's  protege,  and  his  betrayed  bride, 
Katherine  Hendrick,  was  lying  crushed  under  the 
blow,  exciting  the  honest  indignation  of  all  who  knew 
them. 

How  he  was  being  despised  and  execrated  just  now ! 

How  his  good  mother  was  suffering  ! 

.Oh,  what  a  fond,  blind  fool  he  had  been  to  win. 
the  love  of  his  life  in  this  unworthy  fashion ! 

And  he  groaned  so  audibly  that  Poll  peeped  in, 
thinking  that  something  was  wrong  with  the  patient, 
and  seeing  her  lying  there  as  cairn  as  ever,  said, 
cheerily : 

"  Sweet  lady !  she's  just  doing  the  right  thing. 
When  she  wakes  she'll  be  all  the  more  ready  for  the 
beef-tea." 

And  sure  enough  when  she  woke  she  drank  the 
strengthening  nourishment  with  all  the  sharp  appe- 
tite of  convalescence,  yet,  strange  to  say,  seemed  not 
to  notice  who  held  the  bowl  to  her  mouth,  although 
it  was  her  Harrison. 


294:  BA OK  FROM  DEATH*  8  PORTAL. 

Yokes,  who  was  standing  by,  gave  a  queer  start, 
and  turned  very  purple  at  this.  He  also  fastened 
his  watery  orbs  on  hers  with  more  than  their  ordinary 
quota  of  speculation  in  them.  Harrison  smiled  down 
on  her,  radiant  with  present  happiness,  and  waiting 
for  a  love-look. 

The  tea  finished,  she  sank  back  with  a  contented 
murmur,  and  was  for  closing  her  eyes  again. 

"  Darling !  "  ventured  Harrison,  disappointed. 

She  never  heeded. 

"  .Barry  !  my  Barry  !  "  cried  he. 

She  held  up  her  ivory-like  hand,  looking  at  it  cu- 
riously. Harrison's  wedding-ring  shone  on  the  third 
finger.  Harrison  put  his  finger  upon  the  ring,  and> 
bending  low,  whispered  tenderly  : 

"  You  remember  all,  my  wife  ?  " 

Then  she  slowly  turned  her  rich  black  eyes  upon 
his,  and  gazed  for  full  a  minute,  unsmilingly,  as  one 
might  gaze  at  a  picture  or  a  landscape,  or  any- 
thing which  had  no  life  to  answer  back  their 
glance. 

And  then  she  drifted  off  into  drowsy  unconscious- 
ness. 

Harrison  fixed  his  startled  eye  on  Yokes,  and 
caught  that  wiseacre  in  the  act  of  telegraphing  to  his 
wife  something  which  whitened  even  her  ruddy 
cheeks. 


BACK  FROM  DEATH'S  PORTAL.  295 

"  Why,  man,  what's  the  matter  with  yon  ? "  cried 
Harrison,  seizing  him  savagely  by  the  shoulder. 

"I — I — fear,  yet  have  patience, sir,  one  cau  hardly 
tell  all  at  once,"  stammered  the  man. 

"  Out  with  it!  "  gasped  the  wretched  bridegroom — 

"You  think  she's— she's " 

"  Mad  !  whispered  Yokes. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


THE    CRUCIBLE. 


HE  fell  into  another  fathomless  depth  of  slum- 


-'  '^jj  her,  from  which  not  all  the  babel  of  sounds 
which  followed  this  awful  announcement  had 
the  power  to  bring  her  back  to  consciousness. 

They  thought  Mr.  Fairleigh  would  go  mad  himself 
next.  He  tore  his  hair ;  he  called  on  Heaven  to  take 
his  miserable  life  at  once,  and  spare  him  this  too 
dreadful  punishment  of  his  f oily ;  he  cast  himself  on 
his  knees  by  her  couch,  imploring  her  in  language  fit 
to  break  your  heart,  to  give  him  one  little  look  of 
recognition ;  and  then,  turning  like  a  tiger  on  his  ally 
Yokes,  he  cursed  him  for  bringing  the  swfeet  soul  back 
to  a  life  bereft  of  reason — and,  trembling  with  fury, 
ordered  him  from  his  sight  if  he  valued  his  own  life. 

Yokes  bore  all  meekly;  in  truth,  he  was  too  much 
shocked  by  the  result  of  his  surgical  experiment  to 
say  a  word,  he  could  only  gape  at  the  poor  lady  and 
bite  his  nails. 

Ordered  out,  he  obeyed,  and  sat  with  Poll  in  the 


THE  CRUCIBLE.  297 

woodshed  faltering  his  consternation,  and  wondering 
what  would  be  done  next. 

An  hour  or  two  afterward,  Harrison  answered  that 
question  himself. 

He  came  to  them  as  they  shivered  together,  pale 
and  haggard,  but  quite  calm. 

"  Yokes,"  said  he,  "  go,  get  me  some  sort  of  a 
carrage  in  which  I  can  convey  Mrs.  Fairleigh  to  the 
railway-station.  Your  wife  can  get  her  ready  while 
you  are  gone." 

"  But — but — where  ? "  shivered  Yokes,  struck 
stupid. 

"  We  go  South  to  my  plantation,"  said  Harrison, 
then  added  to  himself,  "  ay,  there  I  can  hide  my 
misery  and  ruin  as  long  as  I  like ;  no  one  will  dream 
of  looking  for  us  there." 

"  Tonight  ?  "  gasped  Yokes. 

"  To-night,"  answered  Harrison,  "  you  and  your 
wife  accompany  us." 

Reassured  by  this  command,  the  rascal  departed 
on  his  errand  with  alacrity,  and  his  sentimental  and 
docile  wife  devoted  herself  to  the  mournful  task  of 
dressing  the  unconscious  lady,  and  preparing  every- 
thing for  the  tedious  journey. 

And  so,  in  the  dead  of  night  they  locked  up  the 
lonely  cottage  under  the  cliff,  and  carried  the  mad 

bride  away  to  hide  her  in  the  solitude  of  the  long 
13* 


298  THE  CRUCIBLE. 

deserted  plantation  in  Virginia,  which  had  once  been 
the  family  homestead  of  the  Fairleighs. 

Not  a  whisper  had  reached  them  of  the  events 
which  were  happening  in  New  York,  even  Yokes, 
usually  so  wide-awake,  failed  this  time  to  gather  his 
budget  of  news,  partly  because  of  his  enforced  seclu- 
sion, partly  that  he  was  so  painfully  interested  in  the 
situation  of  affairs  at  the  cottage,  that  the  outside 
world  had  shrunk  for  the  time  into  small  bulk  in  his 
estimation. 

Yet,  absorbed  in  his  own  affliction,  the  weak  and 
erring  man  who  had  waded  through  such  sullied 
waters  to  gain  possession  of  that  prize  which  could 
only  harrow  him  with  intolerable  woe  when  won, 
now  fled  from  the, scene  of  his  dishonor  just  when  he 
should  have  stood  firm  and  prevented  the  sacrifice  of 
her  who  had  ever  been  angel-kind  to  his  unhappy 
Barry !  Ignorant  of  Katherine's  suicide  and  of 
Barb's  danger,  he  hastened  into  a  seclusion  which,  as 
he  guessed,  would  never  be  broken  by  the  friends  he 
had  left,  as  he  supposed,  too  disgusted  with  his 
frailty  to  seek  him  out. 

Lakelawn,  the  Fairleigh  plantation,  had  once  been 
a  noble  property,  but  the  mansion  had  been  burned 
do\vn  during  the  late  war,  the  slaves  scattered,  and 
much  of  the  wealth  accruing  therefrom  lost  in  the 
general  devastation.  Its  wide  tobacco  fields  were 


THE  CRUCIBLE.  :..       £99 

now  worked  by  hired  hands,  under  a  grim  Scotch 
manager,  and  the  family  lived  North,  never  having 
revisited  the  place  since  that  woeful  day  when  tho 
venerable  lady  was  supported  from  the  smoking 
ruins  of  her  home  by  her  son,  then  a  youth  of  fifteen. 

The  spot  where  the  plantation  was  situated  was 
one  of  those  wild  regions  common  in  Virginia,  where 
the  eye  lifts  itself  to  towering  mountains  whose  sunny 
summits  are  lost  in  the  pure  ether,  or  plunges  itself 
into  fathomless  pools,  whose  bottoms  are  covered  by 
strange  thickets  of  petrified  trees  and  fantastic  vege- 
tation. 

The  valley  where  Lakelawn  lay,  spreading  its  rich 
acres  to  the  genial  sun,  was  one  of  those  rock-encir- 
cled nests  of  verdure.  Oaks  and  spicy  walnuts  had 
once  wreathed  their  friendly  arms  around  the  man- 
sion, but  now  they  stood  black  and  shivered,  pictures 
of  desolation  fitly  surrounding  the  great,  gliastly  ruin 
which  was  once  the  home  of  the  proudest  family  in 
the  State  ;  and  behind,  no  longer  vailed  by  the  grace- 
ful tracery  of  vine  and  arbor  creeper,  stretched  a 
solemn  sheet  of  water,  black  and  lifeless,  and  over- 
hung by  two  savage,  beetling  crags,  which  flung  mid- 
way a  natural  bridge  overhead — a  single  arch  of 
fairy  stone-work,  so  delicate  and  brittle  that  no  hu- 
man foot  had  ever  been  known  to  cross  the  dizzy 
pathway. 


300  THE  CRUCIBLE. 

The  pond  went  by  the  name  of  "  Lost  Lake,"  and 
from  it  the  plantation  had  received  its  title  "  of  Lake- 
lawn." 

The  old  mansion  liouse,  built  in  the  ancient  baron- 
ial days  when  the  cavaliers  of  Virginia  were  trained 
in  the  court  of  England,  and  came  fresh  from  its 
splendor  to  emulate  it  in  their  principalities  across 
the  ocean,  had  been  burned  down  during  the  late 
Southern  war.  Here  a  crumbling  martello  tower, 
and  there  a  fragment  of  a  mighty  archway,  were  all 
that  remained  to  indicate  the  grand  proportions  of 
the  ruin,  with  the  exception  of  part  of  the  western 
wing,  which,  for  more  than  a  century,  had  been 
given  over  to  the  rats  and  the  antiquarian.  The  con- 
flagration had  swept  over  these  naked  walls  without 
finding  food  enough  to  stay  it  as  long  as  to  consume 
them.  A  few  of  the  outbuildings  around  also  stood 
untouched  ;  they  were  now  occupied  by  Mr.  Cargill, 
the  manager,  and  his  men  ;  and  a  surly  set  they  were 
in  their  solitude,  unbroken  by  anything  more  exciting 
than  the  weekly  day  of  rest,  or  the  occasional  visit  of 
some  talkative  pedler,  for  the  nearest  city  was  quite 
far  enough  distant  to  isolate  them  practically  from 
their  kind  during  the  busy  season. 

Upon  this  forlorn  community  there  came,  one 
morning,  a  gloomy  young  gentleman,  riding  superbly 
a  fine  "  bit  of  blood,"  as  old  Cargill  expressed  it ;  and 


THE  CRUCIBLE.  301 

what  does  this  apparition  want   but  lodging  for  his 
in  valid. wife,  his  servants  and  himself! 

"An'  whar  ye  think  I  can  pit  ye  is  what  I  wild 
like  to  ken  ?  "  grumbled  the  Scotchman,  furtively  eye- 
ing the  visitor. 

"  There  is  room  there,"  said  he,  waving  his  hand 
toward  the  western  wing.  "  I  shall  have  the  interior 
repaired  and  furnished,  and  take  possession  before 
the  end  of  the  week." 

"An'  wha'  the  deil  are  you  that  has  the  assurance 
to  come  here,  takin'  possession  o'  the  auld  hoose  o' 
the  Fairleighs  ?  An'  wha  think  ye,  am  I,  to  let  ye  in 
till  I  write  the  young  maister?"  growled  Scotia. 

The  stranger  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and 
brought  it  out  full  of  gold. 

"I  am  in  trouble,"  said  he,  looking  the  old  fellow 
eye  to  eye.  "My  wife  has  gone  mad,  and  my  only- 
hope  for  her  is  to  hide  her  away  from  all  disturbing 
causes  for  a  time.  Help  me  in  this  ;  let  me  rent  that 
ruin  there,  which  is  of  no  earthly  value  as  it  is;  keep 
well  the  secret  of  my  residence  here — even  from 
your  master,  until  after  I  am  gone — and,  see  here, 
you  shall  have  a  double-handful  of  these  every  week ! " 

The  old  gentleman's  sharp  eyes  softened,  his  long 
upper  lip  relaxed  its   grim    compression,  a  beam  of 
sympathy  lit  up  his  lean  visage  : 
"  lloot,  man  ! "  cried  he,  heartily,  "  that  alters  the 


302  THE  CRUCIBLE. 

question.  If  ye're  in  affliction,  an'  in  want  o'  a  quiet 
hame,  an'  maybe  a  no  unsympatheesing  freend,  this 
is  the  very  spot  for  ye,  an'  fiend  tak'  me  if  I  mak'  or 
meddle  in  your  family  matters.  An'  noo  jist  please 
to  pit  up  your  siller  ;  what's  richt  an'  fair  I'm  willin' 
to  tak',  an'  we'll  settle  that  when  we've  gane  over  the 
place  thegither." 

And  the  stout  old  fellow  was  as  good  as  his  word ; 
went  cannily  over  the  ruined  wing,  helped  to  calcu- 
late what  the  probable  cost  of  the  proposed  repairs 
would  be ;  fixed  upon  a  rental,  not  generous,  but  just : 
asked  no  inquisitive  questions,  and  parted  from  the 
unhappy  young  man — in  whom  he  never  for  a  moment 
dreamed  he  beheld  the  proprietor  of  the  plantation — 
on  the  best  of  terms. 

He  set  his  men  to  work  upon  the  ruined  building 
at  once  ;  and  what  with  their  industry,  and  the  young 
gentleman's  constant  presence,  urging  them  on  with 
his  impatient  and  miserable  looks,  and  the  inexhausti- 
ble activity  of  the  servant  Yokes,  two  apartments 
were  actually  ready  for  their  occupants  by  the  end  of 
the  week — lathed,  plastered,  furnished,  and  tho- 
roughly aired,  all  in  the  space  of  six  days ;  showing 
that  where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way. 

The  dusk  was  falling  that  summer  evening  when 
.Mr.  Clifford,  the  new  tenant,  brought  home  his 
afflicted  wife.  They  came  in  a  close  carriage ;  their 


THE  CRUCIBLE.  303 

servants,  Yokes  and  his  wife,  were  there  to  receive 
them  at  the  broken  portal ;  and,  as  the  prudent  Scotch- 
man— who  stood  with  a  gang  of  curious  negroes  by 
the  carriage-step—observed  the  gentle  solicitude  with 
which  the  young  gentleman  carried  the  lady  in  his 
arms  from  the  carriage  to  the  house,  not  suffering 
her  foot  to  touch  the  ground,  and  the  pitiful  glances 
of  the  two  servants,  if  he  had  harbored  any  suspicions 
as  to  the  cause  of  the  secrecy  which  Mr.  Clifford  in- 
sisted upon,  they  were  all  dispelled. 

So  they  hid  them  away  from  the  world  in  which 
they  had  cut  such  a  poor  figure ;  and  which  was  most 
pitiable  I  knew  not :  Harrison,  with  his  remorse,  his 
passion,  and  his  blasted  hopes  .of  happiness  ;  or  Barry, 
with  her  frail  and  sinking  body  and  distracted  mind. 

Alas,  if  poor  Barry  had  suffered  much  at  this 
man's  hands,  she  was  inflicting  anguish  enough  upon 
him  now  to  atone  for  even  a  darker  wrong  than  that 
he  had  put  upon  her ! 

Imagine  a  hot-hearted  man  whom  love  at  its 
strongest  has  taken  full  possession  of,  condemned  to 
this  sort  of  thing. 

Scene,  a  quaint  triangular  chamber  in  the  ruined 
wing,  its  broad  window  overlooking  the  glassy  waters 
of  Lost  Lake  ;  sumptuous  upholstery,  delicate  decora- 
tions lit  for  a  lady's  bower,  flowers,  pictures,  pretty 
conceits  scattered  everywhere,  in  the  forlorn  hope 


304:  THE  CRUCIBLE. 

that  they  will  catch  her  attention  and  please  her  wan 
dering  fancy. 

Barry  reclines  on  the  azure  sofa,  her  white  face 
and  jet-black  hair,  and  gleaming  orbs  in  startling 
contrast  to  her  brilliant  crimson  dress — for  it  is  one 
of  her  insane  fancies  to  wear  blood-color,  and  nothing 
else  will  she  endure. 

Harrison  bends  over  her  with  a  piteous  smile  of 
love  into  those  restless,  fire-filled  eyes  of  hers ;  she 
heeds  him  not — she  weaves  her  slender  hands  together 
and  twines  them  in  her  superb  tresses  with  feverish 
persistency  ;  and  her  lips  of  burning  red  move  con- 
tinually in  incoherent  whispers. 

<l  Sweet  Barry  !"  woo.es  the  unhappy  husband  for. 
the  millionth  time,  "  don't  you  know  me,  your  Har- 
rison ?  Look  at  me,  my  girl,  my  poor,  poor  girl ! 
Barry — Barry — sweetheart!  O  God,  this  is  death!" 

And  he  flings  himself  on  the  carpet  beside  her  sofa, 
convulsed  with  sobs. 

A  bobolink  perches  on  the  open  window-sill,  and 
sends  a  shower  of  thrills  into  the  hushed  chamber. 
Barry  turns  her  too  brilliant  eye  upon  the  tiny  song- 
ster, and  her  blank  face  lights  up  with  a  nicker  of 
comprehension.  She  listens  ;  she  raises  herself  weakly 
on  her  elbow — she  tears  her  hair  no  longer. 

Suddenly,  a  wild  note  pierces  through  the  bobo- 
link's song  and  shivers  it  into  dissonance — the  mad 


THE  CRUCIBLE.  305 

girl  has  snatched  the  song  out  of  his  throat,  she  is 
singing  herself. 

And  what  is  the  strain  which  wells  from  her  in 
tones  sweet  as  silver,  but  distraught  and  out  of  tune 
as  the  babblings  of  earliest  infancy  ? 

Ah,  once  she  sang  it  nobly  ;  it  was  a  favorite  of 
Barry  Ponieroy's  in  her  home  at  Thunder  Peak,  long 
ago! 

"An  empty  sky,  a  world  of  heather, 

Purple  of  foxglove,  yellow  of  broom, 
We  two  among  them  wading  together, 
Shaking  out  honey,  treading  perfume. 

"  He  prays,  '  Come  over,'  I  may  not  follow ; 

I  cry,  'Return,'  but  he  cannot  come. 
We  speak,  we  langh,  but  with  voices  hollow ; 
Our  hands  are  hanging,  our  hearts  are  dumb. 

' '  Glitters  the  dew  and  shines  the  river ; 

Up  comes  the  lily  and  dries  her  bell ; 
But  two  are  walking  apart  forever, 
And  wave  their  hands  for  a  mute  farewell." 

Harrison  Fairleigh  listens  with  haggard  eyes  fixed 
on  her's,  and  every  note  stabbing  him  with  fond  re- 
miniscence. She  used  to  sing  it  to  him  in  those  her 
innocent  and  credulous  days,  before  she  knew  him  for 
a  villain.  Is  her  memory  coming  back  to  her,  that 
she  can  recall  it  thus  correctly  ? 


306  THE  CRUCIBLE. 

"  O  Heaven !  if  she  would  but  remember  me  ! " 
he  groans. 

lie  takes  her  in  his  arms,  for  once  she  seems  to  no- 
tice ;  she  starts  violently,  places  her  two  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  and  throwing  back  her  head,  scans  his  coun- 
tenance with  terrible  intensity.  He  calls  a  gentle 
smile  to  his  paling  lip — he  looks  at  her  as  of  old,  with 
his  soul  in  his  eyes — he  draws  her  softly  toward  him 
• — nearer — nearer — his  heart  swells  to  bursting — oh, 
Barry,  have  you  come  back  to  him  again  ?  Ah  ! 

A  wild  shriek  cleaves  the  tingling  air ;  with  flam- 
ing eyes  and  glittering  teeth  buried  in  her  foam- 
flecked  lip,  and  lovely  visage  horribly  distorted,  she 
hurls  him  from  her  with  a  supernatural  strength, 
which  sends  him  reeling  across  the  wride  room  as  if 
he  were  a  mere  feather-weight,  and  then  she  dashes 
herself  against  the  window,  from  which  the  bobolink 
flies  in  terror  of  the  awful  advancing  vision. 

In  dumb  desperation  her  miserable  husband  darts 
after  her,  and  catches  her  flowing  skirts  just  in  time 
to  prevent  her  from  throwing  herself  headlong  into 
the  still  pool  which  lies  under  the  window ;  she 
struggles  frantically  with  him,  as  if  she  felt  the  red- 
hot  arms  of  the  "  Maiden  "  of  the  Inquisition  around 
her,  and  her  fearful  cries  ring  far  over  the  quiet 
spring  scene,  so  wild  and  unearthly  that  the  laborers 
half  a  mile  off  turn  pale  and  drop  their  implements ; 


THE  CRUCIBLE.  307 

and  Yokes  and  Polly  rush  in,  ready  for  the  worst, 
and  find  it  as  much  as  they  can  do  with  all  their 
united  strength  to  pinion  the  arms  of  the  panic- 
stricken  maniac. 

And  when  they  have  by  the  jnercy  of  God  suc- 
ceeded in  drawing  down  the  window — out  of  which 
they  found  the  husband  and  wife  hanging,  she 
writhing  and  tearing  in  his  desperate  grasp — and  are 
looking  at  their  young  master  in  shocked  silence,  his 
face  torn  and  bleeding,  his  coat  in  ribbons,  and  his 
whole  frame  trembling  and  panting,  she  utters  a  last 
quivering  moan,  like  some  wild  animal  spent  in  the 
chase,  and  down  she  goes  among  them  in  strong 
convulsions. 

And  that  is  how  she  remembers  her  Harrison. 

Alas,  poor  souls ! 

A  terrible  punishment,  is  it  not  ? 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

• 

GOLD  KEFINED LOVE  SUBLIMED. 

V,  ay !  a  bitter  punishment  indeed ! 
She  who  was  willing  to  lose  her  soul  for 
one    little   hour's    purchase  of   the  bliss   of 
being  his  wife,  can  now  only  shriek  and  hide  her  eyes 
and  go  into  convulsions  at  his  approach. 

And  yet  he  loves  this  wreck  of  his  darling  so 
dearly,  ah !  so  dearly,  that  he  will  sit  by  her  all  the 
time  she  sleeps,  poring  over  her  wan  loveliness  in 
speechless  sorrow  and  helplessness,  and  hurrying 
away  with  anxiously  averted  face  on  her  awakening, 
to  linger  unweariedly  in  the  little  ante-chamber  ad- 
joining, where  they  have  cut  a  slit  in  the  velvet 
curtain  which  hangs  over  the  door,  to  let  him  see  her 
unobserved ;  he  seems  to  have  no  interest  in  life  out 
of  her  presence  ;  sunshine,  human  society,  books — all 
are  unheeded  in  the  terrible  fascination  of  mal 
Barry ! 

As  time  wore  on  he  devised  a  plan  by  which  he 
could  stay  at  her  side  without  danger  of  another 


GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED.         309 

scene  such  as  the  last.  She  appeared  indifferent  to 
the  presence  of  any  one  else  who  chose  to  enter  her 
chamber — she  even  grew  attached  to  Polly,  who,  it 
must  be  confessed,  was  sentimental  enough — or  the 
scamp,  Yokes,  called  it  so — to  fall  hopelessly  in  love 
with  the  afflicted  lady,  and  who  tried  all  her  little 
feminine,  petting  arts  to  win  her  confidence ;  this 
indifference  to  strangers  Harrison  took  advantage  of, 
by  disguising  himself  with  a  false  wig,  whiskers,  and 
loose  Western  costume,  and  then  presenting  himself 
with  prudent  care  to  Barry. 

At  the  first  glance  she  seemed  satisfied  enough,  but 
presently  the  poor  fellow  followed  the  dictates  of  his 
yearning  heart,  came  and  sat  on  a  stool  at  her  feet, 
and  began  to  sing  a  tender  little  air  which  he  had 
wooed  her  with  long  ago. 

She  stopped  that  dreary  endless  wringing  of  her 
hands,  and  listened  with  wondering  face ; — he  went 
on,  encouraged,  and  venturing  to  look  up,  met  her 
great  fire-filled  pulsating  orbs  fastened  wildly  upon 
his.  Struck  dumb,  he  lowered  his,  when  she  seemed 
to  breathe  freer,  and  after  a  moment's  pause,  she  laid 
her  thin  fingers  on  his  mouth  and  hummed  a  bar  of 
his  song,  signing  him  to  go  on  with  it  as  you  have 
seen  babies  do. 

So  then  he  sang  again,  but  kept  his  eyes  to  himself, 
and  gradually  her  slight  excitement  was  allayed,  and 


310          G  OLD  REFINED— L  0  VE  SUBLIMED. 

she  listened  to  him,  and  looked  at  him  quite  re- 
assured. 

So,  little  by  little  he  taught  this  poor  distracted 
heart  to  lean  on  him,  and  to  find  pleasure  in  his 
coming ;  and  the  day  when  she  tottered  to  meet  him 
at  the  door,  flowers  in  her  hands,  which  kind  Polly 
had  brought  her,  and  kissing  these  first  in  her  old 
gracious  way,  laid  them  softly  in  the  bosom  of  his 
vest,  his  tried  heart  swelled  so  big  that  it  forced  tears 
of  happiness  into  his  eyes,  and  he  gasped  out  a  heart- 
felt "  Thank  God  !  " 

And  after  that,  bitter  as  his  life  was,  he  began 
to  take  courage  and  look  forward  almost  with 
hope. 

The  months  slipped  by,  and  strength  came  slowly 
back  to  Barry's  frame,  but  her  mind  still  remained  a 
blank.  She  seldom  spoke,  and  then  only  in  broken 
murmurs,  her  hand  to  her  poor  confused  forehead, 
and  her  wistful  eyes  fixed  perplexedly  on  one  or  other 
of  those  around  her.  She  walked  out  every  day  lean- 
ing on  her  disguised  husband's  arm  ;  and  all  the 
sweet  sights  and  sounds  of  the  full  summer  time 
passed  her  by  in  glorious  pageantry,  and  she  looked 
on  with  only  half-comprehending  interest,  whispering 
her  pleasure  in  her  sadly  inconsequent  way,  yet  lis- 
tened to  with  rapture  by  Harrison. 

TRUE  LOYE! 


GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED.          311 

Thank  God — thank  God — for  creating  such  a  God- 
like thing ! 

What  else,  oh,  selfish  world,  would  have  chained 
this  man,  black  with  fashionable  sins  as  we  know  him 
to  be,  to  this  woman,  whose  utmost  reward  for  his 
most  sublime  devotion  could  only  be  a  wistful  glance 
or  a  half-demented  murmur  of  joy  ? 

Ay,  True  Love  is  a  full  cup  which  runneth  o'er 
upon  the  dry,  parched  path  of  life,  and  where  its 
precious  drops  do  fall,  sweet  flowers  of  the  soul 
spring  up,  and  so  is  life  made  beautiful. 

But  it  would  have  to  be  a  brimming  cup;  for,  oh, 
the  way  is  sometimes  long  and  dreary,  and  woe  betide 
him  who  attempts  that  lonely  road  with  little  in  the 
magic  chalice ! 

Xot  a  whisper  came  from  the  outside  world  to  warn 
Harrison  Fairleigh  of  the  terrible  march  of  events 
in  New  York. 

Mr.  Cargill,  with  a  delicacy  one  would  never  dream 
of  expecting  from  one  of  his  grim  exterior,  who  lost 
thereby  the  current  gossip  of  what  was  going  on.  with- 
out these  ruined  walls ;  and  being  Scotch,  with  that 
sturdy  nation's  strong  nationality,  he  despised  the 
newspapers  of  his  adopted  country  too  sincerely  to 
subscribe  for  any  of  them,  or  even  to  read  them  when 
they  were  offered  him;  consequently,  the- whole  of 
the  murder-case  in  which  Katherine  Hendrick  and 


312          GOLD  REFINED-LOVE  SUBLIMED. 

Barb  Porneroy  played  such  tragic  parts,  draged  its 
slow  length  through  £he  New  York  papers,  and  was 
copied  more  or  less  faithfully  into  the  Richmond 
sheets ;  and  so  insolated  were  the  denizens  of  Lake 
Lawn,  and  so  wilfully  ignorant,  that,  as  we  have  said, 
not  a  whisper  of  the  dreadful  truth  had  reached  Har- 
rison when  the  event  transpired  which  we  are  about 
to  narrate. 

One  midsummer  night,  Harrison,  whose  bedroom 
adjoined  Barry's,  and  indeed  was  the  only  mode  of 
egress  from  hers,  awoke  with  that  instant  conscious- 
ness of  all  around  him,  and  mental  excitation  which 
are  the  frequent  experiences  of  mesmerist,  clairvoy- 
ant— what  you  will,  at  all  events,  have  been  felt  by 
many  and  many  a  staunch  skeptic  in  the  supernatural, 
and  will  continue  to  be  as  long  as  the  mind  lives  in 
the  body. 

Having  thus  been  waked  from  a  dreamless  sleep, 
with  all  its  faculties  on  the  alert,  and  by  no  apparent 
cause,  the  immediate  idea  that  darted  into  Harrison's 
brain  was  of  necessity  connected  with  the  grand 
source  of  his  anxiety — his  helpless  wife. 

"  Something  wrong  with  Barry !  "  thought  he, 
flinging  himself  off  the  bed  into  his  dressing-gown, 
and  thence  to  her  chamber. 

The  dainty  white  couch  was  tumbled  and  empty  ; 
Polly,  usually  a  faithful  guardian,  lay  on  her  bed  on 


GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED.          313 

the  floor,  dead  drowsy ;  the  taper  which  always 
burned  on  the  dressing-table  was  gone. 

The  young  man's  shout  brought  Polly  to  her  senses ; 
she  bounced  up,  saw  the  empty  bed,  uttered  an  an- 
swering howl,  and  ran  to  the  window. 

"  Locked,  master,  locked  !  "  panted  she.  "  Oh,  my 
heart !  I  thought  she'd  got  out  o'  the  window." 

"  She  must  have  gone  through  my  room,  that's  what 
woke  me  !  "  said  Harrison,  rushing  back  thither ;  and, 
snatching  up  a  few  clothes,  he  hurried  them  on,  while 
Polly  filled  the  house  with  her  screams. 

Anon,  Yokes  appeared  from  his  quarters,  cursing 
and  swearing  at  his  wife  for  her  unfaithfulness,  till 
the  poor  creature,  who  adored  her  young  mistress,  was 
ready  to  cut  her  own  throat  in  her  remorse. 

Harrison  escaped  the  mingled  execrations  and 
lamentations  by  rushing  out  of  the  house,  flinging 
back  at  his  ally  an  impatient  command  to  set  Polly 
to  search  every  cranny  of  it,  while  they  searched  the 
grounds. 

The  moon  shone  bright  as  day,  not  a  sound  was  to 
be  heard  but  the  faint  rustle  of  the  dewy  leaves,  and 
the  tinkle  of  some  distant  thread  of  water  trickling 
into  the  lake. 

"  The  lake  !  "  gasped  Harrison. 

"  Lord,  help  us  now !  "  faltered  Yokes  ;  "  what 
should  she  go  for  to  go  therefor?  she  ain't  melan- 


314:          GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED. 

choly,  she's  as  happy  as  a  babby,  bless  her  sweet 
face! 

"  Rouse  the  men ! "  said  poor  Harrison,  distract- 
edly. "  Fly !  we  must  lose  no  time."  Then  he 
darted  off  on  the  pathway  which  meandered  round 
the  lake,  calling  in  a  voice  that  rang  far  and  near, 
"  Barry  !  Barry !  Barry  !  "  and  the  cliffs  that  over- 
hung the  lifeless  pool  echoed  back  his  desolate  cry 
with  a  lonely  wail,  but  nothing  else  responded. 

The  path  had  once  been  completely  overshadowed 
by  handsome  cedar-trees,  but  these  had  been  ruth- 
lessly felled  to  furnish  the  fires  of  the  bivouac  in 
1864,  and  now  their  mutilated  trunks  stood  up  in 
weirdly  irregular  file,  some  mantled  by  the  riotous 
creepers  of  the  South,  some  grim  and  stark-like 
skeletons  of  themselves,  with  a  gnarled  and  leafless 
arm  stretched  out,  or  a  bleached  rootling  protruding, 
like  a  half-buried  bone.  The  path  itself,  once  so 
daintily  smooth  and  gravelled,  was  choked  with  run- 
ning vines,  briers,  and  tall  rank  couch-grass  ;  and  so 
sunken,  that  the  still,  moveless  lip  of  the  lake 
covered  it  in  many  places,  so  that  the  unwary  pas- 
senger had  much  ado  sometimes  to  tell  land  from 
water  in  the  eerie  light. 

On  fled  Harrison  shouting  her  name,  stopping  ever 
and  anon  to  gaze  into  the  silvery  margin  of  the  pool 
with  dreading  eyes ;  suddenly  he  stopped  short. 


GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED.          315 

Across  the  lake,  nearly  opposite  to  him,  he  saw  a 
tiny  light  flickering. 

"  Her  candle ! "  thought  he,  and  burst  into  a 
laugh  of  joy ;  his  idol  was  safe  thus  far ! 

"  She  has  taken  the  opposite  direction  ;  if  I  run  on 
I  will  meet  her  soon,"  thought  he,  and  keeping  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  light,  he  redoubled  his  speed. 
He  ran,  he  tore,  he  stumbled  on  through  the  weed- 
grown  wilderness,  he  often  waded  up  to  the  thighs 
where  the  path  had  fallen  in,  and  often  was  forced 
to  scramble  up  a  fragment  of  the  cliff  which  thrust 
its  jagged  columns  into  the  water  here  and  there,  but 
as  long  as  he  could  see  that  tiny  speck  flitting  to 
meet  him  across  the  lake,  he  sped  on  with  good 
heart.  Presently  he  stopped  again,  and  this  time  no 
joyful  shout  escaped  him,  but  a  tremor  ran  through 
all  his  frame,  and  he  turned  sick. 

The  light  had  begun  to  mount  the  cliff. 

Does  the  reader  recall  the  description  of  Lake 
Lawn  which  prefaces  this  portion  of  the  history, 
where  a  natural  bridge  is  mentioned  which  spanned 
the  pool  from  two  points  of  the  overhanging  cliff,  a 
slender  thread  of  stone  so  high  and  narrow  that  it 
turned  one  dizzy  to  look  up  ?  Toward  this  fearful 
bridge  the  little  yellow  light  was  climbing— up  the 
broken  wall  of  rock  which  rose  in  rude  steps  from 
the  edge  of  the  pool  a  hundred  feet  in  height — now 


316          G  OLD  REFINED— L  0  VE  SUBLIMED. 

lost  behind  a  projecting  buttress-like  mass,  now  flash- 
ing into  view  again  farther  up  tha  rugged  pass — 
climbing,  climbing  upward  like  a  star  the  bare  bine" 
pinnacle  which  no  human  foot  had  ever  scaled  before. 

Nothing  but  madness  could  have  retained  a  footing 
there :  nothing  but  madness  could  return  to  earth  again ! 

Harrison,  struck  to  stone,  watched  the  light. 

He  stood  on  his  side  of  the  pool  almost  under  the 
arch,  and  the  rock-wall  rose  above  his  head  smooth 
and  inaccessible  as  the  side  of  a  castle,  stretching 
away  before  and  behind  in  vast  irregular  heaps. 

Climb  these ! 

He  groaned  in  despair. 

Fly  round  the  pool  and  catch  her ! 

Ha,  ha!  Look  at  her,  floating  up,  up,  up — already 
half  way  to  the  apex  of  the  pinnacle,  from  which 
was  flung  the  airy  web  of  weather-rotted  stone. 

"  Barry !    Barry !    Barry ! — for  God's  sake  stop ! " 

Ah  !  a  silver  voice  comes  pealing  back  in  a  sudden 
thrill  of  melody — the  very  words  come  strangely  dis- 
tinct, like  dropping  water ! 

Plush ! 

"  The  pearly  gates  are  open  wide, 

I  see  the  bright  array ; 
On  either  side  the  angels  glide 
To  keep  the  shining  way !  " 

God  have  mercy !     The  first  time  Harrison  Fair- 


GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED.          317 

leigh  ever  set  his  fatal  eyes  upon  Barbara  Pomeroy 
she  "was  singing  these  words  in  the  Sunday  school  at 
Rensselaer's  Landing,  into  which  he  had  strayed  one 
sultry  Sunday  in  search  of  a  new  sensation  !  So  fresh, 
so  joyous,  so  pure-sweet  were  her  notes  that  da}7  that 
they  sent  a  shiver  of  emotion  through  him  then — but 
sweet  tones  never  wrung  human  heart  as  these  to- 
night, broken,  as  they  were,  and  dropping  ever  and 
anon  out  of  tune. 

The  first  sounds  he  had  heard  her  utter — were  they 
to  be  the  last  ? 

"  Barry — Barry — Barry — oh,  come  back ! " 

And  still  the  taper  floats  up,  up,  up,  and  the  silver 
voice  rings  on : 

"  When  storms  arise,  and  darkness  clouds 

The  faithful  pilgrim's  way, 

The  angels  glide  on  either  side 

To  drive  the  clouds  away  !  " 

Harrison  falls  on  his  knees,  imploring  the  heavens 
to  perform  a  miracle  for  him. 

The  heavens  gleam  wide  and  purple,  and  the  little 
light  sails  nearer  them. 

He  staggers  to  his  feet,  panting,  and  wet  with  the 
sweat  of  agony. 

Heaven  helps  those  who  help  themselves.     Here's 
at  it  then,  and  God  have  mercy  on  his  soul ! 

He  springs  up  the  slippery  face  of  the  cliff — he 
will  mount  it  on  his  side  as  she  has  done  on  hers,  and, 


318          G OLD  REFINED— LO  VE  SUBLIMED. 

God  willing,  meet  her  on  the  bridge ;  or,  if  that  is  im- 
possible, why,  then,  the  death  that  is  good  enough  for 
his  Barry,  his  victim,  is  far,  far  too  good  for  him,  poor, 
miserable  coward,  who,  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  the 
basest  passion  in  man's  nature,  has  brought  her  to  this ! 

And  so,  God's  angels  whispering  repentance  in  his 
ear  all  the  way,  he  scrambles,  he  leaps,  he  claws  his 
way  up  with  bleeding  hands  and  grasping  feet,  from 
which  he  has  kicked  his  shoes.  The  miracle  for 
which  he  prayed  is — oh,  wonderful ! — being  wrought 
quick  iTpon  the  prayer ;  for,  let  me  tell  you,  God's 
ear  is  so  near,  and  His  heart  so  kind,  that  when  we 
cry  to  Him,  straight  He  sends  us  strength  to  do  our- 
selves that  which  we  thought  nothing  short  of  Om- 
nipotence could  do ;  and  thus  He  works  His  mira- 
cles nowadays. 

And,  all  the  while,  the  little  light  on  the  opposite 
side  is  nickering  higher  and  higher,  and  the  silver 
voice  is  ringing  on  : 

' '  And  brighter  gleams  the  morning  light 

Behind  the  gentle  rod ; 
For  Christ's  redeemed  more  clearly  see 
The  shining  way  of  God  !  " 

Harrison  Fairleigh  has  reached  the  top  of  .the  cliff ; 
and,  balancing  himself  on  hands  and  knees  on  the 
slippery,  knife-like  ridge,  looks  for  his  guiding  star. 

And  he  sees  his  mad  wife  standing  in  her  pure 
white  night-dress  on  the  spider-thread  which  spans 


GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED.          319 

the  abyss,  her  sweet  face  so  radiant  with  more  than 
mortal  happiness  as  she  raises  it  skyward,  that  at  the 
wonderful  sight  his  heart  stands  still,  and  a  great  calm 
falls  upon  his  spirit.  Her  long  rich  hair  streams  back 
from  her  slender  form,  and,  with  her  filmy  robes, 
waves  softly  in  the  passing  breeze ;  an  unearthly  light 
illumines  her  upraised  eyes,  and  the  moon  bathes  her 
whole  figure  with  a  soft  and  glistening  brightness. 

How  have  her  delicate  feet  succeeded  in  bearing  her 
there  over  the  sharp  rocks  ?  In  the  pale  light  they 
shine  white  and  bare,  just  as  she  stole  out  of  her  bed. 
Harrison's  are  red  with  blood ;  how  has  she  escaped  ? 
Have  the  angels  indeed  walked  beside  her  on  either 
side,  bearing  her  softly  over  the  cruel  path  ? 

She  is  singing  still.     Oh,  Sweet  ?  is  it  your  death- 


"  And  soon  they  walk  the  golden  streets, 

Not  slighted  and  alone  ; 
On  either  side  the  angels  glide, 
To  lead  them  to  the  throne." 

A  hoarse  cry  comes  up  from  below.  Harrison, 
glancing  down,  sees  in  the  pathways  on  either  side 
the  pool,  the  dim  figures  of  his  servants  and  of  the 
men  they  have  roused,  looking  small  as  the  toy-men 
in  a  child's  play-house.  They  are  waving  their  arms 
and  gesticulating  wildly  at  the  perilous  position  of 
the  unfortunate  lady.  As  yet  they  have  not  seen 
Harrison,  who,  to  preserve  his  equilibrium,  is  com- 


320          GOLD  REFINED— LO  VE  SUBLIMED. 

pelled  to  lie  flat  on  the  ridge,  grasping  it  with  arms 
and  knees. 

That  discordant  shout  seems  to  startle  the  rapt 
singer.  She  stands  mute,  one  hand  to  her  poor,  be- 
wildered forehead,  and  the  taper  hanging  unheeded 
in  the  other,  in  terrible  proximity  to  her  floating 
dress.  Her  dark  eyes  turn  from  the  calm  heavens 
and  wander  slowly  around  the  moon-bathed  scene, 
down,  down  to  the  shadowy  earth  and  steel-bright 
pool,  lying  so  far  beneath. 

There  is  a  moment's  awful  pause  ;  Harrison  hears 
her  breath  coining  hard  and  fast,  sees  her  eyes  dilat- 
ing in  horror,  feels  the  heart  of  her  beating  faster 
and  faster  as  she  realizes  where  she  is  ;  knows  that 
her  safeguard,  insanity,  has  for  the  time  dropped 
from  her,  as  sleep  drops  from  the  somnambulist,  leav- 
ing him  face  to  face  with  death  ; — tells  himself,  in 
tragic  resignation : 

"  That  ends  all !  "  And,  with  the  words  on  his 
rigid  lips,  springs  upright  on  the  shai-p  and  jagged 
ridge,  extends  his  arms  like  the  balancing-pole  of  a 
rope-dancer,  and  runs  lightly,  surely,  safely  out  to 
her ! 

Transfixed,  she  heeds  him  not  till  his  arms  close 
round  her  like  a  steel-trap  ;  then  a  cry  bursts  from 
her ;  she  looks  at  him  wildly,  she  sees  a  face  she 
never  saw  in  her  days  of  sanity.  Alas !  Harrison  is 


GOLD  REFINED— LOVE  SUBLIMED. 


321 


too  well  disguised.  And,  comprehending  nothing  but 
that  she  is  standing  on  a  strip  not  half  a  foot  in 
width,  in  the  grasp  of  a  stranger,  with  a  sheet  of 
water  gleaming  a  hundred  feet  beneath,  she  makes 
an  involuntary  spring  backward,  and  over  they  go ! 

14* 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

"AND  HE  AROSE.  .  .  AND  SAID  .  .  .  PEACE,  BE  STILL  !" 

ES,  over  they  go  backward,  she  clasped  in  a 
convulsive  grip  to  his  breast,  and  a  fearful 
shriek  comes  up  to  meet  them  from  the  spec- 
tators below.  Over  ?  Ay,  but  not  down  yet ! 

He  grasps  at  the  narrow  spar  of  stone  with  his 
leg  as  he  falls,  and,  like  any  other  gymnast,  having 
caught  it,  he  holds  on  for  dear  life,  shifts  his  burden 
— a  dead  weight  now — into  one  arm,  works  his  body 
to  and  fro  until,  weighted  as  it  is,  it  acquires  spring 
enough  to  swing  up  level  with  his  knees,  and  then 
he  snatches  hold  with  his  other  arm  of  the  rough 
spar,  and  clings  there  for  a  moment  to  rest  and  get  a 
better  clasp  of  Barry ;  and  the  people  burst  into 
frantic  hurrahs  of  delight,  yell  up  a  dozen  strong, 
"  Hold  on,  we'll  get  ye  off !  "  and  run  about  like  ants 
when  a  foot  has  stirred  their  hill. 

This  all  passes  in  three  seconds,  but  so  much  hor- 
ror and  suspense  have  been  crowded  into  them  that 
now,  when  Harrison  has  time  to  look  downward  to 


HE  AROSE,  AND  SAID,  PEACE,  BE  STILL.      323 

the  sinister  pool  shining  serenely  beneath,  he  is  im- 
measurably astonished  to  observe  his  hat  still  in  mid- 
air, spinning  down  to  disappear  anon  like  a  stone 
tinder  the  gleaming  surface.  Three  seconds  more 
drag  by,  and  he  feels  his  arm  that  holds  Barry  begin 
to  tremble  and  turn  nerveless;  he  casts  a  wistful 
glance  after  his  allies;  two  of  them  are  running  as 
hard  as  they  can  go  back  to  the  house  for  a  rope ; 
they  have  not  gone  twenty  paces  yet,  and  his  strength 
is  giving  out ! 

He  clenches  his  teeth,  braces  his  nerves,  and  shifts 
his  position  to  a  better  one ;  in  so  doing  he  all  but 
drops  his  inert  burden,  and  that  sickens  him  ;  so  that, 
for  a  few  minutes  afterward  he  leans  across  the  rock 
panting  and  blind,  with  the  sweat  oozing  from  every 
pore.  Meantime  they  bawl  up  to  him  again,  "  Hold 
on,  we're  corning  as  fast  as  we  can ! "  and  their 
voices  sound  so  indistinct  up  there,  with  all  these 
pulses  beating  in  his  ears  and  his  quick  breath  chok- 
ing him  so,  that  he  fears  he  is  going  in  a  swoon,  and 
gnaws  his  lip  till  the  blood  trickles  from  it. 

All  this  time  she  lies  with  her  pure  white  face  up- 
turned to  the  saintly  moonlight,  her  head  thrown  back 
on  his  shoulder,  and  one  lovely  arm  where  he  has 
contrived  to  place  it — round  his  neck ; — her  beauti- 
ful long  hair  streams  far  down  and  gently  sways  to 
and  fro  in  the  soft  midsummer's  zephyrs,  sometimes 


324:     "  HE  AROSE,  AND  SAID,  PEA  CE,  BE  STILL." 

drifting  round  them  both  like  a  black  vail,  sometimes 
floating  wide  and  into  his  eyes.  She  lies  such  a  dead 
weight  that  he  feels  her  continually  slipping,  slipping 
down,  as  if  some  fiend  in  the  air  was  pulling  her  out 
of  his  grasp  ;  and  when  he  dares  to  unclasp  his  arm 
to  jerk  her  back  to  her  place,  it  is  so  paralyzed  with 
the  convulsive  pressure  of  its  grip  that  he  is  quite 
sure  its  strength  will  not  be  enough  to  uphold  her  till 
the  tardy  help  arrives. 

Moment  by  moment  slips  past,  making  minutes 
eternities  long  to  his  anxious  computation,  and  now 
a  dreadful  groan  falters  from  his  sinking  heart. 

"  Are  ye  coming  ? "  cries  he,  in  fainting  tones. 
"  I  can't  hold  out  much  longer." 

His  voice  is  so  weak  that  they  never  hear  a  word, 
and  seeing  this,  the  poor  fellow  believes  he  really  is 
going  to  faint,  and  makes  one  bold  though  desperate 
effort  for  safety. 

He  edges  the  unconscious  burden  which  is  drag- 
ging him  down,  on  to  the  narrow  bridge,  gets  its 
weight  to  lie  across  the  stone,  and,  relieved  of  this, 
clinches  hold  again  with  arm  and  legs,  and  works  his 
way  slowly  along  the  spar,  stopping  every  couple  of 
inches  to  drag  his  companion  after  him  ;  his  success 
inspires  him  with  hope  and  strength,  and  so  busy  is 
he  that  he  is  at  the  main  cliff  anon,  and  the  messen- 
gers are  back  with  the  ropes,  shouting  good  cheer  to 


"  HE  AROSE,  AND  SAID,  PEA  CE,  BE  STILL. "     325 

him  and  swarming  up  the  crags,  and  safety  seems  at 
his  fingers'  ends. 

All  at  once  Harrison  stops  his  toil,  and  hangs  os- 
cillating between  heaven  and  earth. 

Why  ? 

Something  has  cracked. 

Hush  !  Again — again — great  heavens,  the  bridge 
is  parting  from  the  main  cliff ! 

Yes,  the  treacherous  stone,  perforated  by  the  rain- 
drops and  rotted  by  the  sunshine  of  ages,  is  crum- 
bling away  bit  by  bit — pieces  as  big  as  a  heii's  egg 
dropping  sheer  down  into  the  water,  and  Harrison 
hangs  at  its  junction  with  the  bare  bald  rock,  one 
hand  on  the  main  and  one  on  Barry  as  she  lies  on  tjie 
sinking  bridge ! 

lie  grows  cold  as  death,  a  minute  since  and  he  was 
dripping  as  if  he  had  just  scrambled  out  of  the  water; 
then  his  mind  becomes  all  of  a  sudden  inconceivably 
clear,  so  that  he  is  able  to  see  the  situation  with  all 
its  possibilities  in  a  flash  of  supernatural  comprehen- 
sion. 

He  runs  his  eye  down  the  furrowed  scar,  and  sees 
a  jutting  spur  some  ten  feet  beneath — already  the 
treacherous  bridge  is  slipping  toward  it — he  gathers 
Barry  up  in  his  one  arm,  and  crushing  her  face 
against  his  breast,  guides  his  course  toward  the 


326      "HE  AROSE,  AND  SAW,  PEACE.  BE  STILL" 

And  just  as  Yokes  and  a  couple  of  the  men  arrive 
at  the  top  of  the  cliff,  haying  contrived  to  scale  the 
dipper*  wall  by  the  aid  of  grappling-hooks,  snatched 
oat  of  the  little  boot-house  on  die  bank  of  the  lake — 
down  goes  the  bridge  with  a  crash  and  an  involun- 
tary cry  from  Harrison,  and  the  next  thing  they  see, 
he  is  crouching  on  his  knees  on  the  shelf  of  rock, 
with  Barry  held  to  him  in  a  death-grip. 

This  all  passes  in  such  short  space  that  the  shouts 
of  triumph  at  their  safe  ascent  are  still  on  their  lips 
when  they  see  him  fall — and  their  roar  of  horror  is 
again  interrupted  by  the  joyful  cry  that  he  is  there 
safe  yet ;  next  instant  a  rope  dangles  over  the  face  of 
die  cliff,  and  he  catches  it 

He  is  knotting  it  around  his  wife  to  send  her 
op  first,  when  she  stirs  and  looks  up  with  a  great 

^  - 

-c-  it  happens  that  the  roughness  of  his  recent 
adventure  has  torn  off  Harrison's  disguise  of  hair 
and  beard,  and  it  is  his  own  countenance  which  meets 


.-  dark  eyes  open  wide  and  wild,  she  half  rises 
in  his  anus — a  sudden  light  illumines  her  whole  face, 
and  die  curb  round  his  neck  with  the  single  g . 
cry:  "Harrwor 

The  man  shakes  with  awful  joy. 

She  knows  him— her  reason  is  restored ! 


"  HE  AROSE,  A3T)  SAID,  PEA  CE,  BE  STILL. "     327 

Xever  a  word  he  speaks,  but  holds  her  close,  trem- 
bling. 

The  men  above  shout. 

"Keady?" 

lie  does  not  hear  them — he  is  trying  to  collect  his 
courage  to  speak  to  her. 

She  raises  her  face  again,  all  shining  with  a  solemn 
smile. 

She  scans  his  features  narrowly,  puts  up  her  hand 
and  feels  his  cheek,  catches  him  by  both  shoulders  in 
a  fierce  little  clutch,  and  draws  him  toward  her,  and 
their  lips  meet  in  a  breathless  kiss. 

And  when  she  feels  his  tears  dropping  upon  her 
face,  and  his  arms  trembling  around  her,  she  falters,  in 
tones  rich  with  rapture: 

"  Oh,  love,  you've  come  back  to  me  at  last — at 

"  Barry  I*5  whispers  he,  his  deep  tones  shaken,  "we 
shall  never  part  again,  shall  we  '.  " 

"  Xo,  no,  no  !  v  cries  she,  affrightedly.  "  Oh,  what 
a  fearful  time  I  have  had  searching  for  you  !  AVhere 
were  you,  my  own  dear  i  M 

But  the  men  on  the  cliff  here  shout  again,  alarmed 
at  the  long  delay ;  and  she  hearing,  for  the  first  time 
looks  about  her,  and  sinks  down  speechless  with 
horror. 

"  Fear  nothing,  my  darling— my  darling  !  "  cries 


328      »  HE  AROSE,  AND  SAID,  PEACE,  BE  STILLS 

Harrison,  almost  beside  himself  with  joy.  "You 
had  a  dream,  and  came  out  here  in  your  sleep ;  but 
you  are  quite  safe  now,  only  shut  your  eyes  and  let 
them  pull  you  up ;  and  oh,  love — love — don't  drift 
away  from  me  again ! " 

She  looks  in  his  face,  and  gathers  courage  from 
it, 

"  I  don't  understand,"  falters  she,  plaintively. 
"  But  I  will  do  whatever  you  say,  Harrison." 

He  passionately  kisses  her,  and  then  calls  out : 

"  All  right,  Yokes,"  and  they  gently  pull  her  up 
from  the  ledge. 

lie  has  wrapped  his  coat  around  her  to  prevent  the 
ropes  from  hurting  her,  and  deep  is  the  astonishment 
of  the  men,  when  having  received  her  on  the  perilous 
apex  of  the  cliff  and  unloosed  the  rope,  she  unties  the 
coat  from  her  waist,  and  in  a  collected  manner,  says  : 

"  Send  this  down  also,  Mr.  Faiiieigh  will  require 
it/' 

They  glare  at  her.  She  returns  their  gaze  curiously, 
then  all  at  once  becoming  aware  of  her  dress,  throws 
herself  on  her  knees  and  covers  her  burning  face  with 
her  hands. 

"  By !  she's  herself ! "  mutters  Yokes  to  his  com- 
panions, in  wildest  excitement. 

For  the  moment  they  forget  the  other  unfortunate 
on  his  ticklish  perch,  and  gather  round  her. 


"  HE  AROSE,  AND  SAID,  PEACE,  BE  STILL."     329 

She  looks  up  again,  crying,  sharply  : 
"  Why  do  yon  stay  ?     Go,  help  Mr.  Fairleigh  !  " 
Yokes  drags  them  away ;  they,  meanwhile,  mutter- 
ing in  bewilderment : 

"  She  says  *  Fairleigh ! '  Now,  wot's  that  for  ? " 
"Never  you   mind,"   quoth   the   prudent  Yokes, 
recovering  his  presence  of  mind.     "  The  poor  lady's 
wanderin'  a  bit  yet,  though  her  wits  is  comin'  back 
wonderful." 

So  then  they  drag  Harrison  up,  and  there  is  an 
affecting  meeting  between  the  rescued  husband  and 
wife ;  and  they  manage  to  get  the  lady  safely  down 
the  cliff,  sometimes  in  her  husband's  arms,  sometimes 
supported  between  him  and  Yokes ;  but  though  the 
path  is  not  more  steep  and  cragged  than  that  which 
she  had  mounted  on  the  other  side,  without  so  much 
as  a  scratch  on  her  delicate  feet,  or  a  rent  in  her 
filmy  robe,  now  that  her  senses  have  returned  to  her, 
her  talisman  of  safety  seems  to  have  deserted  her,  for 
her  feet  stream  with  blood,  her  dress  catches  on  the 
toothed  points  of  the  rocks — by  the  time  she  reaches 
the  lake-path  she  is  exhausted,  shivering  with  cold, 
and  faint  with  excitement. 

But  for  all  that,  when  at  last  Harrison  and  J3arry 
were  alone  in  her  pretty  chamber,  with  the  red  dawn 
struggling  in  through  the  curtains,  and  the  silvery 
songs  of  the  bobolinks  bubbling  in,  and  the  cheerful 


330  ".HE  AROSE,  AND  SAID,  PEACE,  BE  STILL." 

bustle  of  Yokes  and  Polly  stealing  to  their  ears  from 
the  kitchen,  I  can't  believe  that  there  are  two  people 
in  the  Union  so  full  of  gratitude  to  God  and  love  to 
each  other,  as  they ! 


CHAPTER   XXY. 

REPENTANCE   AND   EXPIATION. 

'OW  can  we  account  for  this  wonderful  restora- 
tion ? 
It  is  simply  impossible. 

All  that  can  be  said  is  that,  as  the  shock  of  her 
conflicting  emotions  had  unseated  Barry's  reason, 
the  shock  of  realizing  her  fearful  personal  dan- 
ger "flad,  as  it  were,  sobered  her  heated  brain  and 
restored  reason  to  its  throne. 

Perhaps  the  very  fact  of  her  stealing  out  of  her 
bed  to  walk  at  night  proved  that  a  new  phase  of  her 
malady  had  appeared,  and  that  it  needed  but  some 
powerful  agitation  to  rend  the  vail  which  obscured 
her  intellect,  and  bring  back  the  past  to  her. 

And  here,  while  Harrison  hangs  over  his  idol  in 
unutterable  happiness,  let  me  gladly  do  justice  to 
the  quality  of  his  love  for  her. 

We  have  seen  how  base  a  character  his  so-called 
love  bore  when  first  we  beheld  it — mere  passion, 
having  its  central  spring  in  self — not  worthy  of  the 


332  REPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION. 

name  of  love !  We  have  seen  how,  in  the  very 
climax  of  this  selfish  passion,  he  lost  in  his  bride  all 
that  he  had  hoped  to  enjoy — and  ever  since,  how 
gradually  his  passion  became  purged  of  all  its  un- 
worthy characteristics — no  longer  evolved  from  self, 
— how  to  succor  her  pitiable  need  he  lived,  her  well- 
being  his  only  aim;  how  patiently  he  bore  the  curse 
which  had  fallen  upon  them;  pouring  the  best  of  his 
heart  out  at  her  unconscious  feet ;  how  faithfully  he 
devoted  himself  to  her,  with  no  expectation  of  her 
recovery  to  sustain  him, — could  human  fraility  offer 
nobler  love  than  this  ? 

Ah,  no — what  refined  gold  is  to  tlje  rough  ore, 
Harrison's  present  love  for  his  wife  was  to  the  love 
he  had  offered  her  before  marriage ! 

*  #  #  #        •   #  *  * 

"  What !  tears,  Carry  ? " 

"  Forgive  me,  love  !  but  do  I  indeed  recall  every- 
thing?5' 

"  Surely  you  do,  my  poor  wife.  We  two  have 
walked  through  very  dark  paths,  God  forgive  us  !  " 

"Amen!  But — but — surely  there  is  something 
else  yet — something  which  has  followed  me  through 
all  my  mental  wanderings  with  awful  persistency. 
What  was  it,  Harrison,  that  I  did,  that  made  me  feel 
that  I  was  fit  to  live  no  longer  ? — something  that 
made  me  think  the  eyes  of  all  the  world  were  looking 


REPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION.  333 

at  me  in  horror,  ay,  and  God's  eye,  too — in  mercy  try 
to  recall  that  for  me,  my  husband  !  " 

"  Oh,  Barry,  why  torture  yourself  ?  We  repent  of 
all  the  past ;  there  let  it  rest !  " 

"  If  you  love  me,  my  dear,  recall  this  thing  for  me  ? 
I  have  been  chased  by  it  so  long — so  long — it  seems 
like  centuries  since  it  first  began  to  haunt  me — and 
now.  when  I  can  grapple  with  the  horror  aifd  per- 
haps lay  it  at  rest  forever,  it  eludes  me !  Think, 
Harrison,  think •" 

"  My  poor  girl,  how  can  I  tell  what  distressed  you 
most  ? " 

"  It  was  not  little  Barb,  though  I  did  her  such 
monstrous  wrong — (how  can  you  endure  me,  Harri- 
son ?) — and  it  was  not  my  cruelty  to  Katherine, 
though  that  was  bitter  enough  ;  what  could  it  be  ? 
It  was  the  one  idea  which  was  always  revolving  in 
my  poor  brain — why,  I  remember  when  I  went  out 
that  night  with  the  taper,  it  was  to  look  for  some- 
thing or  somebody.  Did  I  say  nothing,  dearest?  not 
one  word  that  might  serve  as  a  clue  ?  " 

"  Sweet,  pray  don't  agitate  yourself  so.  I  will  try  to 
recollect  all  that  happened.  When  you  began  to  climb 
the  cliff  you  sang  something,  a  hymn,  I  suppose." 

"  Did  I  ?     What  were  the  words  ?  " 

"  I  can't  repeat  them.  Something  about,  '  Tlie 
angels  glide  on  every  side!  '  " 


334  REPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION. 

"  '  The  angels  glide  on  every  side  !  '  O-h !  My 
mother ! " 

A  piteous  wail  burst  from  her  very  soul ;  she  sat 
pale  and  gasping. 

Harrison,  heart-sore,  tried  to  compose  her.  She 
laid  her  head  on  his  breast  and  wept  in  rending  agi- 
tation. 

"  My  poor  old  mother  !  "  moaned  she.  "  Yes,  yes, 
it  was  the  memory  of  my  monstrous  conduct  to  her 
that  followed  me  like  an  avenging  spirit.  My  sweet 
old  mother,  who  loved  her  Barry,  believed  in  her — 
came  to  take  her  back  to  her  own  pure  bosom  !  " 

In  anguish  she  sank  lower  and  lower,  till  she  was 
on  her  knees,  her  face  buried  in  her  lap,  humbly 
praying  Heaven's  pardon ;  and  Harrison  mingled  his 
tears  with  hers. 

Suddenly  she  started  to  her  feet  with  a  cry  that 
struck  terror  to  the  heart  of  her  companion. 

"•  This  is  it — God  help  us!  It  has  just  occurred 
to  me  !  "  gasped  she  ;  "  1  hid  my  mother  away  so 
that  she  would  not  be  able  to  interfere  with  my 
plans.  I  put  her  in  a  quiet  boarding-house  with  a 
German  lady,  leaving  money  for  her  support,  a  mere 
trifle,  but  it  was  all  I  had ;  I  had  expected  that  upon 
my  death  yon  would  return  to  New  York  and  find  a 
letter  among  your  papers  where  I  had  put  it,  com- 
mending her  to  your  care ;  but,  instead  of  that,  you 


REPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION.  335 

remained  with  rne.  My  mother  was  too  ill  to  ar- 
range her  own  affairs — the  money  I  left  must  have 
been  exhausted  long  ago,  and  what  has  become  of 
her  ?  Oh,  Harrison,  is  my  mother's  blood  upon  ray 
head  along  with  all  my  other  sins  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  dear  love ;  God  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  he, 
fearfully  shocked.  "Hope  for  the  best.  Who 
would  turn  an  aged  woman  out  on  the  street  ?  No 
one  with  a  human  heart,  I  am  sure !  " 

"  Can  you  still  trust  in  human  goodness,  knowing 
rne?"  cried  she,  in  bitter  self-loathing.  "Ah,  no, 
hearts  are  hard  where  the  grace  of  God  does  not 
dwell.  My  mother  has  starved  to  death." 

li  No,  Barry !  "  said  her  husband,  firmly.  "  Have 
you  so  little  faith  in  God  as  that  ?  Would  He  let 
her  white  hairs  fall  so  miserably  for  no  sin  of  hers?" 

"  He  might !  "  shivered  she.  "  She  would  go  to 
the  angels;  on  me  would  fall  the  anguish.  Do  I 
not  deserve  it?" 

He  calmed  her  by-and-by ;  and  then  asked  her 
where  she  had  put  her  mother. 

With  a  confused  look  she  sat  thinking ;  then  she 
turned  a  glance  of  piteous  helplessness  upon  him. 

"  I  fear  I  can't  recall  where  just  now !  "  stammered 
she. 

He.  begged  her  to  compose  herself,  and  think 
calmly.  She  put  her  trembling  hands  to  her  fore- 


336  REPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION. 

head,  closed  her  eyes,  and  tried  to  recollect.  She 
looked  up  again  with  a  forlorn  attempt  at  a 
smile. 

"Just  because  I  am  trying  to  recall  it  I  can't," 
said  she.  "Let  us  talk  of  something  else,  it  will 
come  to  me." 

Her  husband  began  to  make  arrangements  for  re- 
turning to  New  York  immediately. 

Half  abstractedly  she  assented  to  all  he  said ;  but 
she  was  growing  frightfully  pale. 

At  last  she  seized  his  hands  with  a  wildly- excited 
air,  crying: 

"  I  can't  remember,  Harrison :  do  you  hear  ?  I  can't 
remember !  Do  you  see  what  my  punishment  i§  to 
be  ?  I  am  never  to  be  able  to  remember  where  I  hid 
my  mother ! " 

Again  he  anxiously  strove  to  soothe  the  afflicted 
girl.  For  his  sake  she  made  an  effort  to  calm  herself, 
but  her  words  were  too  true.  Do  what  she  might, 
she  could  not  recall  the  secret  place  where  she  had 
hidden  her  aged  mother ! 

"  We  return  to  Xew  York  at  once,"  said  Harrison, 
the  chill  of  death  at  his  heart.  "  Our  lives  must 
henceforth  be  dedicated  to  expiation." 

****** 

"  Five  o'clock  Telegrame,  Ee-evenin' ;  'Sun,  gxtra; 
Telegrame,  sir.  Here  you  are !  " 


REPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION.  337 

"  Tribune  !  Times  !  special  sheet — cable  dispatch 
— Prince  of  Whales  in  the  desert." 

"  Boss  Tweed  on  the  grand  tower — end  of  the 
Ivatherine  Ilendrick  murder — Barbara  Pomcroy 
guilty! — sentenced  to — hilloa,  Mister!" 

The  bawling  news-boy  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the 
train  through  which  he  was  elbowing  his  way  after 
his  comrades  and  rivals  in  the  trade,  for  a  gentleman 
had  jumped  up  beside  him  as  if  a  pistol  had  gone  off 
at  his  ear,  and  had  seized  him  unceremoniously  by 
the  ragged  collar. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  Barbara  Pomeroy  ?  "  The 
gentleman's  voice  sank  into  an  incoherent  murmur, 
and  he  glanced  a  side-glance  of  vivid  apprehension  to- 
wards the  Jacly  who  occupied  the  seat  with  him. 

"  Or  right,  herey'  are,"  said  the  juvenile,  dexterously 
selecting  the  sheet  from  his  miscellaneous  stock. 
"  News  pipin'  hot;  court  ain't  broke  up  yet;  four — 
or  right — T-i-m-e-s,  T/'i-bune"  and  off  he  shot  to 
supply  another  customer. 

Harrison  Fairleigh  sank  back  in  his  seat  beside  his 
wife,  with  a  scared  face.  They  were  just  arriving  in 
New  York  after  their  six  months'  absence,  and  this 
was  the  first  whisper  from  their  old  life  which  had 
reached  them. 

They  had  propped  going  to  some  secluded  hotel 
until  thev  could  set  as  much  of  their  past  errors  right 


338  REPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION. 

as  was  in  their  power,  beginning,  you  may  be  sure 
with  the  search  for  Mrs.  JPomeroy ;  for,  somehow,  so 
omnipotent  had  been  the  power  of  little  Barb's  simple 
goodness  over  the  straying  Barry,  that  she  had  felt 
scarcely  a  pang  of  anxiety  concerning  her  fate, 
believing,  with  all  her  heart,  that  the  Heavenly 
Friend  who  had  made  Barb  what  she  was,  would 
sustain  her  safely  through  the  perils  of  that  life  into 
which  she  had  so  wickedly  thrust  her  back. 

As  Harrison  surreptitiously  refolded  the  paper  to 
get  at  the  column  which  was  headed 

"THE  KATHERINE  HENDRICK  MURDER," 

Barry  lifted  her  head  and  leaned  towards  him. 

He  had  thought  her  asleep — he  trembled  as  he  met 
her  great  pulsating  eyes  now. 

"  Husband,"  said  she,  her  whole  stricken  soul  so 
poured  into  that  word  that  it  seemed  fraught  with  a 
fulness  of  meaning  never  heard  before,  "  what  is  this 
that  we  two  have  done?  Katherine — Barb — my 
mother !  Oh,  Harrison,  what  a  union  is  ours — ce- 
mented with  blood ! " 

"  Hush !  "  faltered  he,  shrinking  as  if  her  words 
were  poniards.  "  Surely  there  is  some  hope  of  re- 
deeming the  past ! " 

"  Bound  to  each  other  by  a  curse  ! "  said  she,  in 
tones  the  more  terrible  from  their  silvery  softness  and 


EEPENTANCE  AND  EXPIATION.  339 

evenness  ;  "  we  two  have  loved  so  impiously,  1113-  hus- 
band, that  our  love  is  all  that  is  to  be  left  us,  and-  in 
it  we  must  walk — we  two  alone — bound  by  our  mutual 
sin.  and  accursed  by  the  world,  till  death  severs  us. 
Henceforward  you  and  I  dare  not  part,  no,  not  for  a 
moment,  lest  we  be  swallowed  up  in  the  deadly  chill 
that  waits  us  in  solitude.  Our  guilty  past  wreathes 
itself  in  inextricable  folds  around  our  two  souls,  and 
merges  them  into  one  which  shall  never  be  disassoci- 
ated. Bound  by  a  curse,  my  husband  ;  bound  by  a 
curse!" 

These  fearful  words  poured  from  her  lips  with 
such  intensity  and  conviction  that  Harrison  shud- 
dered. 

It  was  as  if  she  had  prophesied  I 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AND    SO,    SWEET    FKIENDS,    FAREWELL. 

f 

MPKISONMENT  for  life  i 

That  was  the  senteiu-e  passed  upon  little 
Barb  Pomeroy,  the  reputed  murderess  of 
Ivatherine  ITeuclrick. 

As  she  was  led  away,  she  cast  one  pathetic  glance 
of  wondering  reproach  around  the  sea  of  excited 
faces,  few,  few  of  which  gave  back  a  look  of  sympa- 
thy. Then  her  head  dropped,  she  folded  her  pale 
hands  on  her  meek  heart,  and  followed  her  jailers. 

Half  suffocated  with  grief,  Mrs.  Fairleigh  rose  to 
accompany  her  to  the  condemned  cell,  but  would  have 
sunk  helplessly  to  the  floor  had  not  a  strong  arm  slid 
round  her  and  a  deep  voice  spoken  in  her  ear : 

"  Madam,  let  me  support  you — let  me  accompany 
yon.  Good  God,  madam !  I  believe  the  child  is  in- 
nocent !  " 

She  faced  round  in  astonishment.  Yes,  it  was 
Lionel  Eoscoe  who  spoke. 

"I  thank  yon  for  that,"  said  the  aged  lady,  with 
proud  dignity.  "The  child  is  one  of  God's  little 


AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL.      341 

ones.  Woe  to  him  who  shall  offend  the  least  of 
these ! " 

She  threw  an  eloquent  glance  at  the  baron  and 
baroness,  who  stood  together  watching  the  departure 
of  the  prisoner  with  cruel  exultation.  They  caught 
her  eye,  and  made  her  two  freezing  bows,  scornful 
pity  in  their  faces. 

When  Mrs.  Fairleigh  and  Mr.  Hoscoe  arrived  at 
the  prison  to  which  Barb  had  been  conveyed  for  the 
night,  they  found  her  seated  calmly  on  her  bedside, 
thinking. 

The  lady  went  in  first,  and  took  her  in  her  arms 
with  a  heartbroken  ciy. 

"  No,  no,  don't  fret  your  heart  over  me,"  said  Barb, 
tenderly.  "  I've  always  been  took  such  good  care  of- 
Oh,  lie's  been  so  wonderful  kind  to  me  right  along, 
that,  somehow,  I  darn't  think  this  here  hard.  We 
can't  go  for  to  expect  to  understand  the  pattern,  'cos 
we  see  such  a  teeny  bit  at  a  time,  but  lie  knows  what 
He's  work  in'  into  it,  an'  some  day  we'll  see  too ;  an' 
oh,  just  won't  we  think  it  beautiful!"  And  the 
sweet  soul's  simple  features  shone  as  if  a  light  from 
heaven  illumined  them. 

Lionel  Uoscoe,  standing  out  of  sight  at  the  door, 
heard,  and  came  in.  His  head  was  bowred,  his  eyes 
sought  the  prison  floor  humbly;  he  entered  as  one 
mi<rht  enter  a  consecrated  cathedral. 


342      AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL. 

"Miss  Pomeroy,  may  I  speak  to  you  from  my 
heart  \ "  said  he. 

She  gently  bade  him  speak  on.  Through  his  tes- 
timony, principally,  she  had  been  brought  to  this  dire 
pass,  but  she  felt  no  bitterness  against  him ;  she  gave 
him  credit  for  believing  what  he  had  said. 

"  I  have  studied  you,.  Miss  Pomeroy,  throughout 
this  unhappy  case,"  he  exclaimed,  with  much  feeling. 
"  I  began  by  believing  you  capable  of  anything ;  1 
end  by  believing  you  spotless  in  heart  and  life  as  one 
of  the  angels  in  heaven.  I  have  no  words  in  which 
to  express  my  admiration  of  your  generosity,  truth- 
fulness, and  purity  of  soul.  I  thank  God  that  I  have 
seen  what  the  Christian  religion  can  do  for  human 
character.  Your  conduct  throughout  has  been  worthy 
of  God  himself,  who  dictated  it.  By  the  greatness  of 
your  noble  heart,  by  your  unselfishness,  by  your  stead- 
fast faith,  I  venerate  you  as  my  superior ;  and  while 
I  entreat  your  forgiveness  for  the  calamity  I  hare 
brought  upon  you,  I  vow  to  dedicate  all  my  wealth 
and  influence  henceforth  to  the  task  of  revealing  to 
the  world  your  innocence.  I  have  come  here  to  say 
this  before  God  and  my  friend  Mrs.  Fairleigh.  JN"o\v, 
farewell,  and  may  Heaven  continue  to  uphold  you!" 

The  two  women  listened  to  this  outburst  in  speech- 
less amazement. 

Barb  was  the  first  to  recover  herself ;    she  rose 


AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL.       343 

from  the  bed,  and,  her  dove  eyes  beaming  with 
seraphic  fire,  put  her  two  hands  in  his,  crying  out : 

"  There !  you've  healed  every  wound  you  gave  me, 
with  your  generous  tongue.  You  believe  me ;  after 
that — well,  it  doesn't  matter  much.  Thank  you,  sir, 
for  lifting  the  ban  off  me — for  your  offer  to  clear  me 
before  the  world.  Only  God  can  reward  you  as  you 
deserve."  And  with  that  she  broke  down,  and  fling- 
ing herself  into  Mrs.  Fahieigh's  arms,  wept  a  little 
wildly. 

The  elder  lady  gave  him  her  hand,  pressed  his  con- 
vulsively, and  smiled  him  out  of  the  cell  as  if  he  had 
been  the  angel  Gabriel ;  and  so,  even  mid  storm,  the 
inky  cloud  turned  out  a  silver  edge,  and 

"  Behind  a  frowning  Providence 
God  hid  a  smiling  face. " 

*****  * 

"A  lady  to  see  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  jailer, 
through  the  grating  of  Barb's  cell-door,  next  morn- 
ing. 

Barb  awoke  from  a  celestial  dream,  and  sat  up  in 
her  poor,  straw  pallet  to  see  the  dim  dawn  struggling 
through  the  window-bars,  and  a  white  face  gleaming 
behind,  the  jailor's. 

"  Come  in,  dear  Mrs.  Fairleigh,"  she  called,  in  her 
gentle,  sweet  way. 

But  oh  !  who  is  this  ? 


SO,  SWEET  FXIENDS,  FAREWELL. 

"Who  is  it  conies  swooping  in  like  a  rushing  wind, 
and  snatches  the  astonished  little  one  out  of  her 
couch  to  a  bosom  that  swells  and  pants  with  a  passion 
of  speechless  emotion  ? 

"  Barry  !  "  sighs  Barb,  half  swooning. 

And  the  repentant  one,  having  expended  the  first 
gust  of  her  excitement  in.  wild  tears  and  kisses,  grad- 
ually recalls  her  grievous  fault,  and  sinks  to  her 
knees  to  little  Barb,  moaning  and  praying  for  par 
don,  pardon,  pardon  ! 

And  the  little  one's  loving-kindness  enfolds  her 
like  a  royal  garment,  hiding  all  the  ugliness  of  her 
sin,  and  shedding  over  her  the  softer  sheen  of  pity 
and  forgiveness ;  so  that  by-and-by  Barry  draws 
Barb  to  her  erring  yet  noble  heart,  and  pours  forth 
such  rich  streams  of  contrition  that  not  only  the 
angel  on  earth  who  listens  to  them  glows  with  admir- 
ing rapture,  but  the  angels  in  heaven  rejoice  over  the 
sinner  repentant ! 

"  I've  come  to  set  yon  free,  my  little  sister !  "  cries 
Barry,  a  strange  light  flitting  over  her  haggard  face, 
as  if  her  soul,  devoted  to  expiation,  had  peeped  out 
for  a  moment;  "  I  will  not  rest  until  you  are  outside 
these  walls  and  your  innocence  established  before  all 
the  world." 

And  little  Barb  can  only  cry  for  jo}r,  and  whisper 
her  admiration  at  God's  goodness  to  her  and  Bairy. 


AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL.      345 

Then  they  tell  each  other  all  the  strange  things 
which  have  happened  each  ;  and  at  last,  when  Har- 
rison and  Roscoe  come,  Harrison  leaning  somewhat 
weakly  on  his  companion's  arm — for  they  also  have 
had  a  trying  interview — they  find  the  two  sitting 
hand-iii-hand,  happy  tears  glistening  in  their  eyes; 
and  anon,  what  a  hand-shaking,  what  thrilling  words 
are  spoken — what  throes  of  bitter-sweet  emotion  stir 
all  hearts ! 

Presently,  in  comes  Mrs.  Fairleigh,  faint  yet  from 
the  shock  of  the  reunion,  but  whitely  smiling ;  and 
seeing  Barry  and  Harrison  clinging  together,  and 
watching  in  silent  satisfaction  Lionel  hanging  over 
Barb  with  adoration  pouring  unconsciously  from  his 
great  black  orbs,  she  blesses  each  pair  with  her  eyes, 
and  quietly  weeps  for  joy. 

******* 

"When  Barbara  Fairleigh  had  told  the  true  story 
of  her  revenge  upon  Katharine  Ilendrick  ;  when  she 
had  confessed  all  her  machinations  to  get  rid  of  lit- 
tle Barb,  her  mother  and  Hugh  Wayne ;  when  she 
had  repeated  word  for  word  the  letter  she  had  caused 
Harrison  Fairleigh  to  write  to  her,  which  she  had 
given  to  Miss  •Ilendrick  ;  when  she  had  thus  clearly 
proved  Barb's  motives  for  interfering  to  have  been 
pure,  and  Katharine's  cause  for  despair  to  have  been 
sufficient  to  drive  her  to  suicide — then  little  Barb 


346      AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL. 

was  taken  out  of  the  prison  with  such  rejoicings  that 
all  the  city  rang  with  them — all  the  louder  that  it 
was  already  whispered  that  the  noble  Englishman 
had  lost  his  heart  to  the  lovely  character  of  the 
American  waif,  and  was  minded  to  take  her  home  to 
rule  in  his  castle,  Combe-Roscoe. 

And  presently  the  patrician,  having  no  doubt  a 
natural  desire  to  obtain  the  best  possible  excuse  for 
indulging  his  inclinations  towards  a  romantic  mar- 
riage, set  to  work  to  trace  the  long  unknown  origin 
of  his  little  Barb,,  and  with  such  success  that  soon  all 
the  world  had  the  proofs  of  that  very  parentage 
which  Mrs.  Pomeroy  had  suspected. 

The  Rev.  Arthur  Pomeroy 's  younger  brother 
Henry  and  his  wife  had  both  died  about  the  same 
time,  (although  separated  through  their  domestic 
disagreements),  eighteen  years  ago  ;  their  only  child, 
a  girl,  had  been  despatched  in  the  care  of  a  faithful 
nurse  out  to  America  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of 
the  clergyman  if  he  could  be  discovered  ;  but  she 
dying  during  the  passage,  the  poor  child  had  been 
brought  ashore  by  a  family  of  emigrants,  who  were 
soon  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  helpless  burden,  to  Xan 
Poison,  who  in  her  turn,  was  glad  to  take  her  for  the 
sake  of  her  expensive  clothes,  with  the  view  of 
training  her  up  to  support  her  by-and-by,  in  a  life  of 
infamy. 


AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL.       347 

Doubtless  the  haughty  Roscoe  took  much  comfort 
out  of  this  establishment  of  the  patrician  birth  of 
his  little  untaught  Barb,  and,  prizing  pedigree  as  no 
republican  mind  can  quite  comprehend — though 
those  who  know  the  value  of  "  blood"  in  horse-flesh, 
should  get  pretty  near  the  idea, — calmly  undertook 
the  education  of  his  future  bride  with  a  conviction 
that  her  blue  blood  would  enable  her  to  make  a 
creditable  appearance  anon  among  the  noble  circles 
to  which  she  was  eventually  to  be  introduced  ;  deem- 
ing that  the  graces  of  the  soul  which  had  first  subju- 
gated his  heart,  were  most  fitly  embodied  in  one 
whose  family  name  was  inscribed  in  that  sacred 
volume  "  the  Peerage  of  Great  Britain." 

And  'twas  said  that  the  little  one  showed  as  lovely 
a  spirit  in  the  hour  of  her  triumph  as  in  the  hour 
of  her  adversity,  so  that  many  who  had  flung  shal- 
low sneers  all  their  lives  at  religion,  seeing  what  it 
had  done  for  her,  the  city-waif  who  had  been  taught 
of  God  alone — took  a  second  thought  on  the  vexed 
question,  and  owned  that  there  was  more  in  heaven 
and  earth  than  they  had  dreamed  of  in  their  philoso- 

Ph7- 
.  Meanwhile,    the    missing    ones    were    diligently 

sought  for. 

Hugh  Wayne  was  traced  first :  Tim  Poison  having 
been  arrested  for  one  of  the  daily  thefts  by  which  he 


348       -AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL. 

was  enabled  to  support  himself  in  modest  comfort, 
and  having  been  exposed  to  the  ruthless  anatomy  of 
a  lawyer  skilled  in  such  work — confessed  that  the 
sledge-hammer  blow  with  which  he  had  felled  the 
young  doctor  on  his  interfering  with  the  abductors 
of  little  Barb  at  the  stage-entrance  of  the  Opera 
House,  had  so  seriously  injured  him  that  he  and  his 
"  pals  "  were  fain  to  carry  him  to  the  first  hospital 
at  hand.  There  he  lay  between  life  and  death  for 
a  month;  then  getting  convalescent  and  evincing  a 
desire  to  meddle  in  the  affairs  of  his  betters — to  wit, 
the  parents  of  the  murdered  lady  who  had  made  it 
worth  Poison's  while  to  prevent  all  such  complica- 
tions— he  had  smuggled  him  on  board  an  outward 
bound  vessel,  and  so  got  rid  of  him  as  long  as  it  took 
him  to  sail  to  India  and  back.  Instantly  on  his  re- 
turn he  had  been  obliging  enough  to  fall  desper- 
ately ill  of  a  fever  brought  on  by  constant  wearing 
anxiety,  and  was  now  battling  for  his  life  in  Tim's 
own  salubrious  abode. 

So  then  they  brought  him  to  Mrs.  Fairleigh's 
home,  and  the  first  blessed  sight  his  eyes  had  seen 
for  many  a  weary  month  dawned  on  him  the  third 
day,  when  he  awoke  from  a  profound  sleep,  to  see  the 
two  Barbaras  bending  over  him — one  on  either  side 
— and  both  softly  weeping. 

Dear,  humble,  faithful  Hugh 


AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL.       349 

On  such  as  thee  earth  places  not  her  crown  of  tri- 
umph, but,  clear  simple  heart,  thou  knowest  there  is 
a  crown  more  beautiful  by  far  laid  up  for  thee  in 
that  sweet  haven  where 

"Angels  glide  on  either  side, 

To  lead  thee  to  the  Throne." 
*  *•****•»  * 

In  vain  they  searched  for  Mrs.  Pomeroy. 

They  advertised,  they  set  detectives  to  work,  they 
consulted  clairvoyants — they  spent  money  like  water 
and  they  could  not  find  her. 

This  fatal  cloud  lowered  so  blackly  over  Barry's 
life-sky  that  I  do  believe  it  would  have  again  ob- 
scured the  light  of  reason  had  she  not  taken  little 
Barb's  advice  and  "prayed  without  ceasing." 

And  in  God's  good  time,  when  lie  saw  that  His 
poor  straying  lamb  was  quite  ready  to  be  taken  back 
into  the  fold  of  His  full  favor,  He  showed  that  He  is 
mightier  than  all  the  human  intellect  and  super- 
natural agencies  in  or  out  of  the  world. 

One  morning  Barry  rose  from  her  knees,  and  slip- 
ping, in  her  pure  white  robes  and  flowing  hair — like 
a  holy  nun — to  Harrison,  who  still  slumbered,  she 
awoke  him  and  said  quietly : 

"  Husband,  I  have  remembered!  " 

And  he  sprang  up  with  a  shout,  and  folded  her  to 
his  breast  with  a  rapture  of  joy  he  had  never  known 
i;i  her  before. 


350      AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL. 

Hand-in-hand  these  much  tried  souls  went  straight 
to  the  house  where  Barry  had  conveyed  her  mother 
nore  than  nine  months  previously.  The  German 
woman  met  them  in  the  parlor ;  Barry  was  so 
changed  that  she  did  not  recognize  her  till  Harrison, 
who  spoke  German,  recalled  the  circumstances  of  her 
former  visit. 

Then  her  kindly  eyes  glistened,  and  she  would 
have  hurried  out  of  the  room,  but  that  Barry  flew  to 
her,  detaining  her  by  a  convulsive  clasp,  while  Har- 
rison asked : 

"  Is  the  English  lady  with  you  still  ? " 

"Ja,  ja!"  cried  she,  nodding  her  head  joyously, 
and  got  away ;  but  Barry  kept  at  her  heels,  and  hid 
in  the  shadow  of  the  door  through  which  she  darted. 

And  the  erring  daughter  beheld  her  long-deserted 
mother  leaning  back  peacefully  in  a  great  soft  chintz 
elbow  chair,  and  her  big  Bible  lay  open  on  her  lap, 
her  spectacles  on  her  nose,  and  her  beautiful  hair, 
white  as  the  driven  snow,  was  combed,  oh,  so  neatly, 
upon  her  tranquil  brow  ;  her  soft,  gray  shawl  folded, 
oh,  so  tenderly,  around  her  bent  shoulders;  and, 
as  her  feeble  finger  travelled  slowly  along  the  line, 
she  lifted  her  eyes,  dewy  with  the  light  beyond  the 
grave,  to  the  German  woman  who  had  taken  her  in 
when  her  own  forsook  her,  and  murmured  : 

" '  The  Lord  is  ray  shepherd,  therefore  I  can  lack 


AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL.      351 

nothing.'  '  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  Thou  art 
with  me  ;  Thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.' " 

A  single  deep  sob — some  one  at  her  feet  clasping 
her  hands,  kissing  her  garments,  wetting  her  trem- 
bling hands  with  tears. 

"  Dear  Jesus,  my  Barry  at  last !  " 

Ay,  hold  her  close,  poor  daughter — come  too  late ! 
for  the  pearly  gates  are  wide — for  the  golden  street 
is  thronged  with  welcoming  hosts — for  another  soul 
has  gone  up  thither ;  well  belovedj  long  expected. 

Ay,  ay,  poor  Barry,  all  the  tears  that  ever  were 
shed  will  not  bring  her  back  from  yonder  bliss.  In 
that  supreme  instant  of  earthly  happiness  her  heart 
burst,  and  her  spirit  winged  its  way  to  that  shining 
land  where  happiness  is  the  native  air,  and  cannot  kill ! 
#  *  *  #  *  * 

And  so  my  Barbara  sinned  and  repented,  and  I 
dare  swear  lived  a  nobler,  because  a  more  pitiful  and 
lenient  woman  ever  after. 

She  will  never  gather  her  unsmirchcd  robes  about 
her  with  bitter  look  askance  at  those  her  sisters  who 
have  lost  their  way,  poor  souls,  and  cannot  find  it 
until  a  tender  hand  like  hers  is  stretched  out  to  drag 
them  back  to  it. 

She  will  not  spend  her  life  in  the  small  gratifica- 
tions of  infinitesimal  whims  according  to  the  usual 


352      AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL. 

role  of  ladies  of  fashion,  "  God  forbid  !  "  my  Barry 
is  fond  of  saying,  "  that  I,  a  brand  plucked  from  the 
burning,  should  ever  flaunt  my  scorched  and 
blackened  self  in  Vanity  Fair  !  No,  no,  there  is  work 
to  be  done  for  my  sisters  out  there  in  the  world,  let 
me  do  what  I  can  !  " 

And  Harrison  helps  thankfully  ;  for,  trust  me,  sis- 
ters, walk  boldly  into  some  path  of  Christian  benevo- 
lence, exercising  what  common  sense  you  have  been 
endowed  with,  and  your  men  will  not  be  a  step  be- 
hind, only  tell  them  that  you  need  them. 
1  But  though  they  have  repented  truly,  and  now 
venture  to  love  each  other  purely,  and  to  take  com- 
fort out  of  their  love,  Barry  will  never  hold  a  child 
of  their  love  to  her  empty  heart. 

And  Barb  ! 

God  bless  her ! 

She  is  a  great  little  lady  now,  and  has  her  servants, 
carriages,  society,  appears  at  court,  and  shows  her- 
self at  the  opera;  but  with  all,  she  retains  the  sweet 
simplicity  and  crystalline  purity  of  soul  which  won 
our  love  the  first  day  we  saw  her  in  Cardinal 
Court. 

Hugh  Wayne  and  his  sister  Nettie  keep  house  to- 
gether 5  it  is  the  regular  rendezvous  for  all  the  young 
couples  in  Thunder  Peak,  and  Hugh  beams  on  their 
happy  loves  as  if  the  sight  awoke  no  moani.ig  voice 


AND  SO,  SWEET  FRIENDS,  FAREWELL.      353 

within ;  and  Nettie,  watching,  brushes  her  e^es, 
and  firmly  refuses  every  swain  in  turn,  saying, 
quietly . 

"  I  will  never  leave  Hugh." 

Mrs.  Fairleigh  still  lives  in  the  town  house,  but 
not  alone.  She  has  devoted  herself  to  one  of  those 
delicate  chanties  which  only  women  of  high  culture 
and  inherent  delicacy  can  successfully  conduct ;  she 
is  blessed  and  happy  in  her  labor  of  love,  and  often 
remarks  to  Barry,  who  sees  her  every  day,  living  only 
a  square  or  so  distant : 

"  I  am  all  the  better,  ay,  and  more  useful,  from 
having  known,  and  suffered  by,  and  loved  '  The  Two 
Barbaras!'" 

And  so,  sweet  friends,  farewell ! 

THE    END. 


1876' 


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CHARLES  DICKENS'  WORKS. 


A  TVew  Edition. 

>\monj*  the  many  editions  of  the  works  of  this  greatest  of 
English  Novelists,  there  has  not  been  until  now  one  that  entiiely 
satisfies  the  public  demand. — Without  exception,  they  each  have 
I  j  some  strong  distinctive  objection, — either  the  form  and  dimensions 
of  the  volumes  are  unhandy — or,  the  type  is  small  and  indistinct — 
or.  the  illustrations  are  unsatisfactory — or,  the  binding  is  poor — or, 
the  price  «  too  high. 

An  entirely  new  edition  is  nou>,  however,  published  by  G.  W. 
Carleton  &  Co.  of  New  York,  which,  it  is  believed,  will,  in  every 
respect,  completely  iatisfy  the  popular  demand. — It  is  known  as 

"Carleton's  New  Illustrated  Edition.** 

COMPLETE  IN  15  VOLUMES. 

The  size  and  form  is  most  convenient  for  holding, —  the  type  is 
entirely  new,  and  of  a  cleat  and  open  character  that  has  received  the 
approval  of  t!te  reading  community  in  other  popular  works. 

The  illustrations  are  by  the  original  artists  chosen  ly  Charles 
Dickens  himself — and  the  paper,  printing,  and  binding  are  of  an 
attractive  and  substantial  character. 

This  beautiful  new  edition  is  complete  in  15  volumes — at  the 
extremely  reasonable  price  of  $1.50  per  volume,  as  follows: — 

I. — PICKWICK   PAPERS   AND    CATALOGUE. 

2. — OLIVER  TWIST. — UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER. 

3. — DAVID   COPPER  FIELD. 

4. — GREAT  EXPECTATIONS. — ITALY  AND  AMERICA. 

5. — DOMBEV   AND    SON. 

6. — BARNABY   RUDOE    AND    EDWIN    DROOD. 

7. — NICHOLAS    NICKLEBY. 

8. — CURIOSITY   SHOP  AND   MISCELLANEOUS. 

9.— BLEAK   HOUSE. 

IO. — LITTLE  DORRIT. 
II. — MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 
12. — OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 
13. — CHRISTMAS  BOOKS. — TALE  OF  TWC  CITIES. 
4. — SKETCHES  BY  *.OZ  AND  HARD  TIMES. 
15. — CHILD'S  ENGLAND  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  first  volume  —Pickwick  Papers — contains  an  alphabctic-J 
catalogue  of  all  of  Charles  Dickens'  writings,  with  their  piASitious 
in  the  volumes. 

Thi;  edition  is  sold  by  Booksellers,  everywhere — and  single  sped-  • 
men  copies  will  be  forwarded  by  mail,  postage  free,  oil  rcu-ipt  of 
price,  $1.50,  by 

G,  W,  CARLETON  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square,  New  York. 


MARY  J.  HOLMES'  WORKS. 


8.—  MARIAN  GRAY. 

9—DARKNESS  AND   DAYLIGHT. 
lo.-HUGH    WOR1HINCTOJJ. 
it.—  CAMERON  PRIDE. 
12.—  ROSE   MATHER. 
13.—  ETHELYN'S   MISTAKE. 


i5.-EDNA    HROWNING. 


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j    -COUSIN  MAUDE. 
16.— WEST  LAWN.  "  17.— EDITH  LVJ.E. 

OPINIONS    OF   THE    PRESS. 

"Mrs.  Holmes'  stories  are  universally  read.  Her  admirers  are  numberless. 
She  is  in  mary  respects  without  a  rival  in  the  world  of  riction.  Her  characters 
are  always  Jife-Iike,  and  she  makes  them  talk  and  act  like  human  beings,  subject 
to  the  same  emotions,  swayed  by  the  same  passions,  and  actuated  by  the  same 

Kolrnes  is  very  happy  it  portraying  domestic  life.  Old  and  young  peruse  he« 
itories  with  great  delight,  for  she  writes  in  a  style  that  all  can  comprehend."— 
New  Ytrk  Wetkly. 

•'Mrs.  Holmes'  stories  are  all  of  a  domestic  character,  and  their  interest, 
therefore,  is  not  so  intense  as  if  they  were  more  highly  seasoned  with  sensational- 
ism, but  it  is  of  a  healthy  and  abiding  character.  Almost  any  new  book  which  her 
publisher  might  choose  to  announce  from  her  pen  would  get  an  immediate  and 
general  reading.  The  interest  in  her  tales  begins  at  once,  and  is  maintained  tv 
the  close.  Her  sentiments  are  so  sound,  her  sympathies  so  wann  and  ready, 
and  her  knowledge  of  manners,  character,  and  the  varied  incidents  of  otdinary 
life  is  so  thorough,  that  she  would  find  it  difficult  to  write  any  other  than  an 
excellent  tale  if  she  were  to  try  it."— Boston  Banner. 

"Mrs.  Ho'.mes  i«  very  amusing:  has  a  quick  and  true  sense  of  humor,  a 
sympathetic  tone,  a  perception  of  character,  and  a  familiar,  attractive  style, 
pleasantly  adapted  to  the  comprehension  and  the  taste  of  that  large  class  oi 
rVricriran  readers  for  whom  fashionable  novels  and  ideal  fantasies  have  oo 
dkarm."-  Henry  T.  Tucker  man. 


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G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO.,   Publishers, 
Madison  Square^  New 


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